


all the sinners crawl

by neroh



Series: souls set in darkness [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mirror Universe, Post Star Trek: Into Darkness, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-17 18:05:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 61,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/870411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neroh/pseuds/neroh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a shuttle incident gone awry, Jim Kirk finds himself in a mirror universe where his counterpart never made it off Delta Vega and Earth was destroyed by the Romulans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you my beta readers [Emma](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AlekWalker/pseuds/AlekWalker), [Joell](http://www.fanfiction.net/u/1421774/royalpinkdogs), and [Shelly](http://archiveofourown.org/users/venusinthenight)
> 
> Mix is located [here](http://8tracks.com/boldly/all-the-sinners-crawl).
> 
> This story was inspired by [this image](http://onlybonesleft.tumblr.com/post/54403617830/secretlytodream-mirrorverse-oh-god-another-au) on Tumblr.

"Now," says the half-Vulcan as he paces around his prone body, his fingers tracing the lines of the spikes attached to multi-tailed whip in his hand, "I will ask you the question once more and I suggest that you answer it."

Jim swallows back a sob and squeezes his eyes shut, not wanting to look. He shifts his sweat dampened body ever so slightly and his arms sing in agony. He chokes on the pain, his fingers curling around the bonds that keep his arms over his head.

"Jim," he hears Spock whisper into the shell of his ear. "Jim, open your eyes."

It's not his Spock, but another. Where his Spock is compassionate and logical, this one is destructive and completely insane.

He shows little mercy for those who disobey him and does it in such a calculating manner that it makes Jim's blood run cold. Jim bites his lip to keep himself from screaming and shakes his head.

"Jim," purrs Spock, his hot breath against Jim's cheek.

Jim's breath hitches in his throat, his chest tightening in panic as Spock traces the whip down his aching spine to the curve of his buttocks. As the leather and metal touches Jim's naked body, it provokes more pain from the wounds sustained by Spock's merciless ministrations. 

He thought that the wounds inflicted by this familiar face had finally stopped bleeding, but Jim is wrong and he starts to tremble as rivulets of blood course down his naked backside, mixing with the sweat that covers his skin in a thin sheen. 

 _This is not the Spock you know_ , Jim says to himself. _None of these people are the ones you know._

"Captain," Spock says, his voice curling around the word with malice. " _Captain_ James T. Kirk, open your eyes."

He can feel a sob building in the depths of his chest like a slow breaking wave. Jim shakes his head ever so slightly.

But it's just enough.

He lets out a cry as the Spock grabs his face with a crushing grip and jerks his chin forward. Jim opens his eyes out of terror, pure and unadulterated terror, and whimpers. The tears that he was trying to contain fall down his bruised cheeks in a steady stream.

"We're crying again?" ridicules Spock in an uncharacteristic fashion. He pulls Jim closer to him to inspect the display and tilts his head, his dark eyes searching the younger man's face. "Such a pitiful display of emotion." 

Spock lets Jim's face go and the movement makes the younger man groan in pain. "Let's try this again," he says, his hands behind his back in a familiar manner. "How were you able to fake your death and escape Delta Vega?"

"I already told you," Jim rasps, "I'm not who you think I am."

"You are Cadet James Tiberius Kirk, are you not?"

Jim groans in frustration. "I'm _Captain_ James Tiberius Kirk."

"You keep repeating these falsehoods... these delusions," Spock replies in a cool tone. He begins to circle Jim, slapping the whip against the palm of his hand. "You know perfectly well that I am captain of this ship, yet you continue to provoke me with these lies. Why is that, Jim?"

Jim thinks that Spock may be behind him, but he can't be sure. His right eye is starting to swell and he's pretty sure that one of the earlier blows his head sustained blew out his eardrum.

Everything about his equilibrium and senses is off balance, just like this place Jim ended up in. 

Jim was sure that he was on the shuttle, flying it back to the _Enterprise_ through space when he accidentally flew through an electromagnetic disturbance. It had been a test run of a new model and, of course, Jim wanted to be the first one to take it out for a spin because he was restless and wanted to create some mischief.

"Goddammit kid," he heard Bones curse over the comm, "no more loopy-loops! Get your ass back here before I make someone fly out to get you!"

Jim had laughed, because that's what he always did when Bones was on the brink of a tirade. "Bones, you need to get out more," he quipped.

"Captain," his Spock had said, "it would be wise for you to return."

Jim had rolled his eyes. "You two are no fun."

He was almost - _almost_ \- back to the ship when the shuttle hit the disturbance, causing the machine to rumble and quake. Jim steadied the shuttle knowing that once he gets back Bones is going to be pissed. Beyond pissed even because it's Bones and that's what his best friend does. He blows a gasket and turns beet red whenever Jim even missteps in the hallways of the _Enterprise_. 

His comm was abnormally silent, which should have been the first tip off that something was wrong, but Jim being Jim was too preoccupied with returning the shuttle to the ship in one piece.

The ship - _his_ ship - was a shiny white beacon against the darkness of space. Her retrofitted skin and core, the blinking lights beckoning him to come home safely...

Jim flew the shuttle in, like he had planned...

...except _something_ went wrong, thus thrusting him into his current dilemma.

Dilemma was too pithy of a word - HELL. Jim Kirk was truly in hell.

The roar of Spock's voice behind him makes Jim tense and he knows that another blow is coming.

When it does, he bites the inside of his mouth so hard that a chunk of skin is torn away by his teeth and he accidentally swallows it along with his own blood. Jim gags on the coopery fluid that trickles onto his tongue and lets out a ragged breath. 

"You have a lot of fight for a man who's supposed to be dead," Spock observes as he peers in front of Jim.

Perhaps it's the delirium that causes him to do it, but against Jim's better judgment, he spits a wad of blood into the commander's face, coating his green tinted cheek. 

Spock doesn't even grimace as he casually wipes the blood away with his hand. He studies Jim's blood against his skin and shrugs. "And an apparent lack of common sense," he says as he turns his impossibly dark eyes on Jim. 

It's like staring into the depths of an inferno.

Swallowed by fear and hypnotized by the dark irises in front of him, Jim barely has time to register the next beating - this time across the taut muscles of his stomach. The red-hot pain catches him off guard and he screeches, struggling to keep himself on his feet. 

"I want to know how you're still alive, Jim," Spock roars with each powerful blow. "Tell me how you survived! Tell me now!"

Jim is unable to answer. The only sound he makes is his cries of pain, which only eggs Spock on more and somewhere in Jim's mind, he knows that's why Spock is doing it. 

This Spock is sadistic and twisted and thrives on the pain of others. He's so unlike his Spock and the other Vulcans that Jim has encountered. 

More lashes fall - one crisscrosses the wound on his stomach, another on his bare thigh. Moving down, down, and down...

Jim is leaning his head against his arm, his vision blurry, when he notices the glint in Spock's eyes as he's zeroing in on his groin. The whip is thumping against Spock's open palm. 

The black leather against stark, pale skin - teasing him, mocking him, warning him. "Please... no..." Jim begs in a hushed voice.

The whip is brushing up against his dick, teasing his soft flesh in vain attempts to arouse him. "When I put you in that pod, I strangled you while you were unconscious. I snuffed out your miserable life with my bare hands and sent you to an icy grave," Spock hisses into Jim's ear, stirring a whimper from the younger man. "Tell me how it is that you live."

The whip stirs, moving downward, tracing an invisible line on his skin. He knows where the next blow will be and he shudders. Suppressing a sob because he knows no matter what he says Spock will do as he pleases, Jim murmurs, "I'm not your Jim Kirk." 

Those eyes are staring at him, questioning him with those near-black irises. Jim is about to repeat himself when he hears the sharp crack of the whip, his words dying on his tongue.

He lets loose an animalistic howl that threatens to tear him apart as Jim loses his footing and sags in his bonds. The joints in his arms erupt in pain just as another blow hits him in the testicles.

He can't breathe, he can't scream, he can't see past the pinpoints of light in his vision. He thinks his chest is heaving and he's trying to catch his breath, but he's not sure anymore.

All he knows is that he wants to die if it means that the pain will end. 

The roar of blood in his ears finally passes. A groan escapes his lips. He licks his lips and tastes the dried blood from his nose. It's caked to his upper lip and down the sides of his mouth. He becomes aware of another person in the room – someone coming to help him, perhaps? 

Jim tries to lift his head for a better view, but the movement is too much effort. He leans his forehead against his arm and closes his eyes, moaning.

"Well," says a woman's voice, "had I known that's what he was packing, maybe I would have given the townie my name after all."

She touches his raw cheek with her fingernail, making Jim jerk away from her. "Oh look at that...he doesn't seem to like me, Spock." She holds his chin in a vice grip between her thumb and index finger and that's when he sees her face. 

It's Uhura.

Her familiar brown eyes are not the kind ones he's used to. They hold a perilous glint, which seems to borderline on murderous, and when she smiles, it's not a smile at all - it's a snarl. Her dark hair falls down her back, unbound and wild, several locks obscuring the tattoo on her upper arm. 

Jim looks at her through half-lidded eyes and drops his head down to his chest when she lets go of him. 

"What do you want to do with him?" Uhura asks as she surveys Jim's battered body. "Toss him out an airlock?"

He hears the whip being thrown in the corner with a grunt. "That is too simple," Spock says. 

Jim lets out a cry as his body falls, landing on the floor with an unceremoniously thud. The nerves in his body are singing in agony and it's an effort to keep himself upright, but Jim does it anyways because he knows that it will piss off this horrifying caricature of his friend.

"Too simple?" Uhura echoes, sounding amused.

"Yes," Spock replies. "Killing him now would be...unwise. I want to know how he found us and who sent him."

Fingers wind themselves through his hair and yank his head upward. He's looking into those eyes again - so dark, so cold.

_"I'm scared, Spock," he recalls. "Help me not to be...how do you choose not to feel?"_

He's not just scared, he's terrified. This isn't like dying a hero. He hasn't saved anyone's life or saved the world. Jim is just a prisoner, locked in a dank, dark room somewhere in the underbelly of the Enterprise.

_"I do not know," Spock whispers inside of his mind. "Right now, I am failing."_

Failing - the only one failing is Jim. He lets out a sob and allows himself to bow his head as much as Spock's grip will allow. He's naked and alone and he's going to die in his place.

_"I wanted you to know why I couldn't let you die," he gasps. "Why I went back for you..."_

No one is coming for him. Not a single person and the very thought of it makes Jim's heart shatter into pieces.

_Spock's lips are trembling as he replies, "Because you are my friend."_

The commander hand lets go of Jim's hair, watching his head fall forward. Jim can hear him and Uhura chuckling as his vision starts to tunnel to the blissful darkness he has been praying for. "Get McCoy down here to patch him up," he hears Spock say. "I'm sure the doctor will be pleased to see his friend again."

They leave him. Jim waits for the door to slide shut before he vomits the contents of his stomach and some blood onto the floor before passing out.


	2. Chapter 2

When he starts to come to, Jim hears the familiar humming of machines and the shuffling of feet. The sounds ricochet through the receding darkness, growing louder as Jim crawls his way to consciousness. 

It takes eons.

Eventually he breaks through, hoping that he was having a nightmare (brought on by an allergic reaction to medication, a concussion, something - anything - that wasn't done by Spock's hand) and that he's back on his _Enterprise_. He blinks, taking in the familiarity of Med Bay - the machines, the counter tops with equipment littered across the surface, the empty BioBeds - save the one he currently occupies. He wants to let out a sigh of relief, chalking up his horror to a bad dream, but something doesn't sit right with him. Through his drug-addled brain, he cannot figure out why.

Jim shifts his body, feeling his muscles, bones, hell, even his skin protest at any sort of movement. He realizes that he is almost naked under the thermal blanket, the warm fabric brushing against his bruised and battered skin. He quickly discerns why he can't shake the uneasy feeling gnawing at his stomach when he tries to move from his side to his back.

With a shaking hand, Jim pulls down the blanket and sees that his left wrist to cuffed to the side of the BioBed. Jim stares at the glittering metal against his pale skin and swallows roughly, only to wince. He makes a face and grunts in pain. 

 _Not a dream_ , he thinks to himself in a panic as his head drops back down the pillow. A raspy whine escapes his lips, catching the attention of a person passing by his bed.

"Jim?" inquires a voice - gruff, accented, and achingly familiar.

There's something about the way they are saying his name... something so surreal. 

But, it's him - Jim knows it's him, except it's not really. 

When the doctor stands over him, Jim sees that he has the same dark hair, identical hazel-green eyes, same nose, lips pressed into a scowl, expressive brows. 

It's his Bones, except not. This Bones' hair is short, shaved into a buzz cut, and he has a scruff on his face. Those kaleidoscope eyes are haunted and lifeless, where his Bones' were the opposite. There is a scar on this Bones' upper lip, marring his skin, and he looks like he's seeing a ghost.

They are locked in a staring contest when Jim remembers Spock's words, harsh and deadly in his ear: _When I put you in that pod, I strangled you while you were unconscious. I snuffed out your miserable life with my bare hands and sent you to an icy grave._

He realizes that this Bones _is_ seeing a ghost. The doctor reaches for his pocket to pull out the tricorder he always keeps on his person and begins to scan Jim. As he brings the device closer to Jim's torso, the young man flinches and shrinks back, wordlessly, on the bed. Jim can see the flicker of sadness reflected in the doctor's face when he dares to look up. 

"I'm not..." Bones begins to say as he moves the tricorder up towards Jim's head. His voice breaks and he swallows roughly, looking at Jim in the most clinical of views. Or trying to at least. 

 _I'm not going to hurt you_ , a voice in Jim's head whispers, completing the doctor's broken words. He goes to move, hissing at the pain it causes. 

Bones looks up, concerned, and shakes his head. "Try not to move," he says. "I'll give you something for the pain in a moment."

With that, he disappears, his footsteps echoing in his wake. Jim looks at his cuffed wrist, which hangs limply over the side of the bed. So he's still here and it's not a bad dream.

It's as real as his _Enterprise_ \- just a sick and twisted version of it.

"I know how much you love these," Bones says as he comes back over to Jim's bedside, holding a hypospray in his hand. There's a dull grin on his lips as he waves the device in front of the younger man. 

As he reaches for his chin, Jim jerks back, his wrist catching painfully on the cuff. He stares up at Bones, his eyes widening in alarm and wondering if he's just like the other Spock. Jim swallows back the lump forming in his throat and sinks back against the bed, his body trembling. He knows he must look pitiful, but at the moment, he could care less. 

"Hey," Bones says gently. "Hey kid, it's okay." His hand, rough and calloused, clasps Jim's shoulder as he shakes his head. "I won't hurt you." His eyes are searching the younger man's face. "You're safe with me." 

Those last words seem to pain Bones as his hand moves to Jim's chin, gently tilting his face upward. He administers the hypospray without his usual force and bravado, then steps away from Jim's person.

The medication takes effect and Jim feels less like someone used him as a whipping post. He relaxes against the bed and briefly closes his eyes, letting the warmth of whatever Bones gave him wash over him. He's never been more grateful for narcotics in his entire life. "What's the damage?" Jim asks in a hoarse voice, so small that he can barely hear himself.

Bones is shifting his weight from one foot to the other and if he's anything like his Bones, he is probably crossing his arms over his chest and furrowing his brow. "Aside from Spock beating you an inch from death? You'll live," replies the doctor in the curt voice that Jim remembers. "The regen unit was able to fade only some of the wounds to your back, stomach, and thighs. One of them was pretty deep, so I had to use old fashioned sutures to close it up."

Jim opens his eyes to see the worry look on Bones' face. So familiar, yet not. Jim swallows and winces at the throb in his throat. 

"You damn near blew out your vocal cords," Bones adds as he reaches for something out of Jim's line of sight. When he pulls back, he is holding a glass filled to the brim with ice chips.

Jim watches as Bones brings the rim of the glass to his lips, silently beckoning the younger man to trust him. Warily, he opens his mouth and feels the relief of ice on his tongue, melting rapidly and cooling his aching throat. 

"Easy kid," he hears Bones say as he pulls the glass away from him. "You've been unconscious for a few days and the last thing you need right now is to lose your lunch."

"A few days?" Jim replies under strained vocal cords.

Bones nods. "Just two days, but I figured it would stroke your ego by exaggerating," he remarks. There is a ghost of a smile on his lips before he falters. "Jim… I don't understand…" His voice trails off as tight lines appear on his face. "You were _dead_. I saw you… I saw what he did to you."

He sees Bones' eyes water as the doctor turns away, trying to compose himself.

 _What did you see?_ Jim wonders as he watches Bones' Adam's apple move as he swallows roughly. "I'm not who you think I am," Jim finally rasps.

Those familiar eyes on him and he can see Bones' arching a skeptical brow. "You're Jim Kirk," he counters.

"Yes, but -"

"You're Jim Kirk, the little shit who made my life miserable, ate my food, and drank my _good_ bourbon," Bones says through gritted teeth. "We met on a shuttle in Riverside. We drank from my flask until we landed in San Francisco."

"Bones…"

Bones leans closer, his fists balling so tightly that his knuckles are turning white. "We were roommates for two years before you… we…" He stops suddenly and glances down at his boots, drawing his lower lip.

"My name is Jim Kirk," he whispers. "But I'm not the one you know."

Bones arches a brow, but says nothing.

"I know how this is going to sound, but I'm not from here. Where ever here is," he explains.

"You're on the _ISS Enterprise_ ," Bones answers warily.

"You mean the _USS Enterprise_."

Bones grunts and shakes his head. "No, kid, the _ISS Enterprise_ ," the doctor says gruffly. He is studying Jim's skeptical expression. "We're a Terran Constitution-class battle cruiser."

"No," Jim replies, shaking his head furiously. "The _USS Enterprise_ is a not a battle cruiser. It's a Federation Constitution-class heavy cruiser."

"Kid, have you lost your damn mind?" Bones finally snaps. He is looking at Jim with that glare that he reserves for when his friend is acting like a damned fool. The doctor points a finger at Jim and narrows his eyes. "There is no Federation! It's gone. Granted, you wouldn't know that because… well… I have no idea where you were when the Romulans destroyed Earth-"

"They _what_?" Jim pulls himself up, causing the blanket that was covering his body to fall to his lap, leaving his torso bare. He feels the new skin on his back and stomach pulling from the sudden movement, making him wince from the discomfort. "The Romulans destroyed Earth?"

"Yes," Bones says curtly as he clasps Jim's shoulder. "Now lie down."

"But Bones," Jim protests, "where I'm from Spock and I – all of us – saved Earth. And Admiral Pike. He gave me the _Enterprise_."

This earns an eye roll from the doctor, who is gently pushing Jim back down to the mattress. "No, kid. The Romulans destroyed Earth – we were too late. For Earth and for _Captain_ Pike."

Jim freezes at his last words, feeling the breath rushing out of his lungs as if he's being kicked in the gut. He releases his hold on Bones' forearms and slumps back into the pillows, lost. His mind is racing, trying to comprehend how different this place is. "No," he utters, staring at the sheets. "No, Bones, _we_ saved them."

"Jim," Bones begins to say.

"You're awake," a voice observes from the shadows. Bones and Jim turn their heads, seeing Spock lurking in the dim lighting. His dark eyes are glinting with a madness that makes Jim shiver. "And telling fables."

Jim watches as Bones straightens his posture and glares at the commanding officer of the  _Enterprise_. "Captain," he says in a clipped tone.

"Doctor McCoy," Spock replies as he looks the doctor dead in the eye. "You must be so pleased to have your…  _friend_ …back."

Bones' eye is twitching and his full lips are pressed into a thin line. "Watch it, you pointed-ear bastard, " he growls.

"I'm shaking," the commander responds casually. He arches a brow, turning his dark gaze to Jim. "And you, how are you doing?" 

Jim swallows and says nothing, averting his gaze. 

"Jim Kirk, your behavior is most…impolite," Spock muses as he steps closer to the BioBed. He tilts his head and rubs his chin. "Perhaps if I remove your handcuff…"

"Do that and I will make you regret it," Jim snaps, looking the captain dead in the eye.

Spock looks impressed and lets out a sigh. "I see that your fight has returned."

"It never left."

"Oh," Spock laughs, "that's where you are incorrect, Jim Kirk. It was only two days ago you were sobbing in my presence, the salt of your life running down your cheeks in floods while I put you back in your place."

Jim arches a brow. "If that were true, wouldn't I be dead?" he retorts defiantly, nostrils flared.

Spock's smug expression falters, but only for a moment. Jim can see the rage, the uncertainty, and the fear engraved into his aquiline features within a span of heartbeats. "You are walking a very precarious line," Spock says in a composed manner. "I am allowing you to live because I want to know how you managed to do so in the first place. I will find out how as well as who is behind it and when I do…you will wish you had stayed dead."

Jim is silent, his blue eyes locked in a stare with Spock's. He watches as the captain stirs, uncomfortable, and breaks their eye contact. It's a hollow victory, but a victory nonetheless. 

"Doctor," Spock begins, "what is the cadet's prognosis?"

"Fair," Bones grunts, fleetingly glancing at Jim.

Spock places his hands behind his back, a familiar gesture, and nods. "Very well," he replies, making his way to leave the two men. "When Cadet Kirk has recovered enough, he will be quartered with you. I'm sure you'll enjoy that, Leonard."

"Not as much as I will enjoy watching someone beat your face into a bloody, green pulp, Captain," Bones snaps.

Spock hums with approval. "To be sure," he replies, his dark gaze moving from the doctor to Jim. "Until we meet again, cadet." 

The latter part of Spock's words makes Jim flinch, earning a smile from the commander's.

He begins to walk away, leaving Jim and Bones in silence when Spock turns around. "And doctor," Spock adds, "do find your patient suitable clothing. I don't want you getting overly excited about your _friend's_ return."

Bones is flushed, part embarrassment and part anger. His lips are trembling, on the verge of a sharp reply, and instead of speaking, he turns away from him, who takes his leave of Sick Bay. 

Jim watches Spock leave, fear returning to his body. "What _happened_ to him?" he asks no one in particular.

"His home world was destroyed and he watched his mother die right in front of him," Bones replies, his tone almost sympathetic. When Jim turns to look at him, the doctor is typing into his PADD. "Some of us can handle trauma. Apparently half-breed Vulcans cannot."

"He lost it?"

"He got in touch with his human side," he says with a shrug. He realizes that Jim is staring at him, his mouth gaping. Bones sighs. "His human side is not as passive as his Vulcan half. In fact, it's downright sadistic. You, of all people, should know that, kid."

Jim looks down at his torso, which has healed thanks to Bones. He spots the injury that Bones was referring to, located on his side. Under protective gel, Jim can see the neatly stitched sutures over a jagged wound.

"Don't even think about touching it," Bones orders as he finishes up with his PADD.

Jim knows better than to argue, regardless if this man is his Bones or another. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"Sure kid," Bones replies, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'll get you something to wear. We don't want the captain getting any more ideas." 

Jim is silent as Bones goes to rummage around for a Sick Bay gown.

The doctor comes back with a familiar pair of Sick Bay-issued pajama bottoms and lays them on the BioBed. He leans over, tapping a code into the small keypad of the handcuffs, and catches Jim's wrist as it falls. His touch is gentle, almost intimate. "I can run a regen unit over this, if you want," Bones tells Jim, looking up at him.

Jim shakes his head. "It's fine," he replies in a small voice. "It's just a few bruises."

"Yeah," Bones sighs as he reaches for the pajama bottoms and brings them within Jim's reach. He goes to pull back the blankets, when Jim's hand grabs his wrist, his fingernails digging into his skin. "Goddammit man, calm down! I'm not going to hurt you." When Jim lets go of his wrist, Bones retracts his arm, rubbing the reddened skin.

Jim notices that Bones looks hurt, for lack of a better word. Hurt that his friend is so distrustful of him. Hurt that he is arguing with him. But there is something else there, an unnamed type of hurt that Jim cannot recognize.

"Shit," Bones grumbles as he inspects the half-moon indentations on his wrist. "I know it's been a while since we've seen each other, but kid, this is a bit much!"

Jim lets out a sigh. "Bones," he says, "I am not your Jim."

"Not this again," Bones groans, frowning as he looks at Jim.

"Please listen to me."

"Kid, you've been through a lot over the last few days. I know from Spock's handiwork that he was none too pleased to see you again and that being back here must dredge up some awful memories, but you've got to stop with this nonsense," Bones lectures. He leans against the BioBed, scrutiny in his eyes, and is about to say something when he sighs and shakes his head. "Jesus, Jim. What the hell happened to you?"

Before Jim can reply, Bones is pulling down the blankets, exposing his lower body left bare by the Sick Bay gown: fair skin, the light golden hair that dusts his legs, various freckles and scars. "What the hell…" Bones mumbles in wonder as he peers down at a scar on Jim's thigh.

Jim follows his gaze and sees the silver, puckered skin. It's a souvenir from a run-in with a Klingon several months back. 

The fucker had taken a nice chunk of his thigh with a Bat'leth before Jim took him down with his phaser. Somehow Jim had survived and managed to convince his Bones to let him keep the scar. "I was attacked with a Bat'leth," Jim explains. "You – well, not _you_ – saved my life."

Bones is staring at him like he's insane. "Kid, I never treated this wound and I would remember if I did."

"You aren't listening," Jim insists. "I am not your Jim, like how you're not my Bones. I'm not from here. Where I'm from, we saved Earth. I am the Captain of the _USS Enterprise_ and Spock is my First Officer. Pike was rescued and we went on our five year mission. We're still on our five year mission…"

His voice trails off, remembering his mentor and pseudo-father figure. Swallowing hard, Jim looks up at Bones, who is still staring at the scar. "You have to believe me, Bones. Please."

The last word is what makes Bones regard him with a darkness in his eyes that Jim cannot describe. His hazel-green eyes are darker, flecked with gold undertones like moss in sunlight. There is a ring of dark green, so familiar and foreign at the same time. What this man is thinking, Jim cannot fathom.

"Second of March," Bones finally says.

Jim raises a brow. "What about it?" he replies, confused. 

A crestfallen expression settles into Bones' features and he swallows hard, biting his lower lip as he does so. As he helps Jim pull on the pajama top, Bones is unnaturally silent – deep in thought – and won't look him in the eye. 

"Bones?" Jim questions, tilting his head to meet the doctor's eyes. "Bones…what about the second of March?"

"It's nothing, kid," Bones replies in a heartbroken tone.

"Clearly it is," Jim says. "Tell me."

Bones' eyes flicker in his direction, dark and listless. "More than friends," he whispers, the pain of remembrance in his voice. "My Jim and I were more than friends." 

Those words hit Jim like a blizzard, wrapping him up in bitter cold and making his blood freeze in his veins. He stares at the doctor, not knowing what to say and unsure if he can even speak. His mouth works, trying to form words, as Bones' stare continues. If the doctor didn't believe him before, he certainly does now.

Jim is still struggling to say something when Bones leaves, his footsteps echoing in his wake.

 

* * *

 

McCoy enters his quarters with a heavy sigh from a long and draining day in Sick Bay. He leans against his desk, taking off his regulation boots and tossing them haphazardly away from him, not caring where they fell. He may care later when he trips over them on his way to the head in the middle of the night, but for now, the good doctor's mind is elsewhere. In Med Bay, to be exact, and confined to a BioBed. When he was first commed to come down the interrogation room (laughable since said room is located in an unused area of Engineering), McCoy took his damn time getting down there.

"There's something down here for you," Uhura drawls over the comm, her tone its usual menacing self. "Might want to hurry, doc."

McCoy didn't bother listening to her because he doesn't bother listening to a lot of people. He keeps his nose to the grindstone and stays out of everyone's way. He brings his med kit with him as he takes the long walk, not bothering to grab one of his nurses or even let them know that he's making a 'house call'. He just goes, walking the halls of the _ISS Enterprise_ – his home and his prison. 

Eventually he does show up, seeing Uhura's dancer's body in the dim light. She is leaning against the wall, her dark hair spilling down in a serpentine coil over one shoulder. He can see her earrings twinkling and her tattoo on her shoulder, the dark ink embedded in her mahogany skin.

She sees him approaching and looks perturbed. "Finally," she breathes, pushing herself off the wall.

McCoy shrugs. "Should have told me that it was an emergency, darlin'."

"You're a doctor," Uhura retorts, as if this was a good answer to his tardiness. She rolls her eyes and gestures towards the ajar door. "He's in there."

McCoy shakes his head, his forehead creasing in annoyance. "If this is another lost cause, so help me I'll hypo you into the next century. Maybe you'll learn some compassion."

"Whatever," Uhura replies, looking at her nails. She glances up at him and shrugs. "Do your worst, doc," she says as she leaves him to it.

McCoy mutters 'bitch' under his breath as he pushed the door open, listening to it creak as it reveals the interrogation room. It's dirty, dank, and lit by a single light that swings from the ceiling above. He can hear the ship whining and moaning as it moves through space, the sound of liquid dripping from a pipe and onto the floor, and labored breathing. 

The smell of human sweat, blood, and vomit assault McCoy's nostrils as he steps into the room, bringing an arm to his nose. He rolls his eyes because this is the captain's usual modus operandi: make it painful, make it horrific, make the victim beg for death. 

 _Fucking Spock_ , he laments as he surveys the room, truly hating that piece of shit hobgoblin. He would have felt bad for the captain, having watched the destruction of his planet and the death of his mother.

That would be traumatizing for anyone…except it happened to McCoy as well and he's still not a murderous asshole. An asshole, yes, but he still believes in his Hippocratic oath: do no harm.

McCoy sees the body – a male – lying in a fetal position, his muscular arms bound behind his back in cuffs that look like they are on too tightly. The man is naked, broken, and bleeding all over the floor. In the low light, McCoy can see the captain's handiwork. 

God, that man loves the multi-tailed whip with the spikes. The wounds are many, angry, red, and bleeding. It's just not the man's back, but his legs and thighs. The skin, delicate and pale, is torn open with an aggressive hand and little remorse. 

He uncuffs the stranger, noting the bruised and abraded skin. It's the least of this man's problems. McCoy is genuinely surprised when he presses his fingers against the man's neck, feeling his pulse – weak, but steady – thumping under clammy skin. Glancing over the fallen body, McCoy sees vomit on the floor – only an hour old at most. 

Sighing, McCoy comms Sick Bay. "Can I get a stretcher down to the interrogation room stat? We have a live one."

"Really?" says the disbelieving voice of Christine Chapel. "He actually let someone live?"

McCoy snorts. "Chapel…"

"Okay, okay," she complains. "We'll be right down."

McCoy opens his med kit, removing a thermal blanket to cover the man's body. He will probably die, but at the very least, Bones can afford the stranger some ounce of respect. 

As he drapes the blanket over, McCoy notices the achingly familiar curve of this man's jaw. He squints, inspecting the partially hidden features in the bad lighting. The right eye – the closest one to him – is swollen and discolored, turning a vivid purple. There is a laceration embedded in the man's hairline that is caking the light hair with congealed blood. McCoy reaches for the man's jaw, his eyes catching the indentation of scarring near this man's chin. He tilts his head, gently turning his patient's face towards him.

There are remnants of tear tracks on this man's flushed cheeks and McCoy cannot blame him for crying, given his injuries.  _Must have hurt like a bitch_ , he thinks to himself as the man's face comes into view, causing the doctor to pause.

Those full lips – cracked and stained with blood – are partially opened in the most familiar way. He can hear the ragged breathing coming from this man, his fight to stay alive despite the shitty circumstances. That perfect nose, sprinkled with freckles. Those strong brows, the long dark lashes that break over his cheekbones with each breath. 

 _No_ , McCoy thinks, _it couldn't be_.

He lays the man on his backside and turns his head, which has fallen away from the doctor towards him. 

Against all logical and reason, he is staring at James T. Kirk, a dead man who is apparently not so dead. McCoy's breath hitches in his throat as his eyes take in the sight before him, his body trembling. 

This – _this_ – isn't happening. Not really, not truly. McCoy couldn't be so lucky.

Under his calloused hands, he is touching Jim. His hands, fingers and palms, are holding Jim, cradling his limp form as McCoy stares at him, completely gobsmacked. 

"Jim," he whispers, unsure of his own voice. "Jim?"

He traces the tip of his thumb against Jim's lower lip, remembering how it curved when he smiled, frowned, pouted, or how it hung open during climax, pure and uninhibited. Unsurprisingly, Jim is unresponsive in McCoy's arms. His chest, covered in deep lacerations and bruises, is rising and falling.

It's the only movement that comes from him, prompting McCoy into action. He lays Jim on his side, covering his supine body with the blanket before grabbing his tricorder with shaking hands.

The read-outs indicate no internal bleeding in Jim's abdomen (a small mercy). He sustained a serious blow to his head, which McCoy hopes against hope knocked Jim out cold before Spock really got going, and ruptured an eardrum.

"Is he still alive?" asks one of the medics as McCoy's team comes through the door.

Of course they would be so lighthearted over something like this… fucking idiots.

McCoy injects Jim with several hyposprays without a word. With each injection, he half expects Jim's eyes to pop open and for him to start cursing. Jim always hated hyposprays. McCoy can hear the medical team getting the stretcher prepared for the patient.

"Holy shit," says one of the medics. "That can't be…"

"Is that Jim Kirk?"

"I thought he was dead!"

McCoy spins around, in a near-blind rage, and bellows, "Stop standing around and fucking help me!"

He orchestrates getting Jim's form onto the stretcher, making sure he's on his side to prevent further irritation of his injuries. An IV line is put in place and someone straps an oxygen mask over the kid's face. 

As they hurry Jim through the ship, McCoy keeps a hand on his shoulder, hoping that his familiar touch will somehow comfort the younger man.

When they enter the turbolift, McCoy hears a groan escape Jim's lips, muffled by the mask on his face. McCoy glances down and sees a sliver of cerulean blue irises looking up at him, unfocused and feverish. He leans down, carding his fingers through Jim's sweat laden hair.

"Jim, it's me," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "It's Bones."

He knows that Jim isn't lucid. In fact, he's hardly there. His eyes are struggling to remain open and it breaks McCoy's heart. "Bones…" he hears Jim moan, his eyes rolling back into his sockets.

"That's right, kid," McCoy says as he watches Jim lapse back into oblivion. "You're safe now." 

True to form, James T. Kirk survives. McCoy is working on him for hours: mending wounds, repairing his eardrum and testicles, pumping him full of medication. When it's all over and Jim is situated in a BioBed, McCoy collapses into a chair next to him, watching Jim's vitals on the monitor.

"How is our patient?" asks Spock, startling McCoy. He looks so serene when McCoy turns his glare – red hot and filled with hate – on him. He raises a black brow in mock surprise.

McCoy stands up, practically kicking the chair away from him as he charges up to his captain. "You sick son of a bitch," he spits.

"Your reaction surprises me, doctor," Spock replies, neutrally. "I thought that you would be pleased to see your friend again."

"Pleased to see my friend beaten to a pulp?" McCoy hisses. "What is the hell is wrong with you? You couldn't finish the job the first time around, so you went for round two?"

Spock sighs. "I could have just killed him outright and shoved his body out of an airlock without your knowledge, but I know how much Cadet Kirk means to you. Tell me, was it a joyous lover's reunion?"

"He is unconscious, you sadistic piece of shit!" McCoy roars, gesturing towards Jim's prone form. "Do you enjoy tormenting me? Him? Us? Wasn't once enough?"

"Sadly no," Spock replies, looking towards Jim. "It's that… Cadet Kirk makes me so… illogical. You, of all people, know that."

McCoy stiffens, paling at the captain's words.

"He never followed the rules and opted to make up his own, which I cannot allow. I thought that I had taught him a lesson – one which you witnessed, but apparently, even in death, Cadet Kirk manages to defy the odds," Spock explains in a composed voice. "Perhaps when he regains consciousness, he will be more compliant. I remember that it took some time to break you in, but in the end, doctor, you listened."

McCoy swallows, remembering. After Spock had choked the life out of Jim and forced him to call his friend's time of death, McCoy had gone into hysterics. 

No, he had gone crazy. Plain and simple.

Spock had ordered him locked up in the quarters that he and Jim once shared until the doctor could be compliant. He spent days screaming in grief, not caring that Earth was destroyed or that the Federation was gone because his whole world – Jim – was dead and he had been powerless to stop it. 

He would never kiss those lips or hear him laugh. McCoy would never be able to hold Jim in his arms, feel his warm body pressed against his own. Those blue eyes – so blue that it was haunting – would never glint in mischief ever again.

He was gone, dead, just like the rest of the world…

When Spock came back, McCoy was curled up on the floor next to Jim's bed. He was a shivering, sweaty, sobbing mess and all he wanted in the universe was to die.

Instead, Spock cruelly forced him to live. He became the CMO of the ship and went through the motions until they became robotic.

And now…

McCoy pours himself a glass of bourbon and sits down on the couch in his main room, mulling over the events of today. 

At first, he thought Jim was suffering from traumatic amnesia or brain washing. Jim had been so insistent that he was not his Jim or from this universe. The scar on his thigh from the Bat'leth could have happened between the time Jim was sent down to Delta Vega and now. He swore that McCoy was the one who repaired it.

McCoy knew the kid well to know when he was _absolutely_ certain of something.

He got his crazed look in his eyes every single goddamn time. When Jim looked at McCoy with a blank expression when he told him the date of their anniversary – the day that McCoy had finally made the first move and pinned Jim to the wall of their dorm room, kissing him in a frenzy – the doctor's heart broke all over again. 

 _There is something else,_ McCoy thinks to himself as he brings the glass to his lips.

Damn kid is telling the truth.


	3. Chapter 3

One thing's for certain: Jim wants to go home.

_Now._

He is sitting on the edge of the BioBed as Bones reassesses him, holding that damn tricorder in his hand and watching the screen instead of looking at Jim. Behind him is the medical team, some of them in awe, most of them contemptuous, and all of them making him feel like he's in a fishbowl. 

Today he is being discharged into Bones' care, something that surprised the medical team as they had a pool of how long it would take for him to succumb to his injuries.

Chapel, with her pretty face and bright eyes, had informed Jim of said pool while bringing him breakfast that morning. "You know, cadet," she had said, watching him pick at his food and ignoring the look of disdain on Jim's face from being called a cadet, "We had a pool going on."

"Oh?" Jim had replied as he considered eating the muck on his plate. No matter what universe he was in, Jim Kirk was _always_ going to hate hospital food.

Chapel nodded, leaning against the end of his BioBed, her fingernails tapping against the frame. "Do you care to know what it was about?"

"Sure I guess."

When Jim had looked up, Chapel was sneering, her features taking on a sinister cast. "When you were going to die of your injuries," she hissed. "I had you down for the first day, but you proved me wrong. You cost me one hundred credits, cadet." 

She had left him alone and as soon as she disappeared to god knows where, Jim decided that he wasn't hungry. 

He can feel her watching him, her eyes glinting at him from the shadows. When Jim looks up, she gives him a little wave, her expression unchanging. He shivers and looks back down at his hands in his lap.

"What is it?" Bones asks impatiently as he stares at the tricorder.

Jim shakes his head. "Nothing," he answers quickly.

Bones has treated him coolly since he woke up. He's unfailingly polite, but so clinical when he's around Jim that the young captain swears that the temperature drops when he's nearby. If there had been any warmth in this Bones, it's surely gone now.

Especially after his admission.

_More than friends. My Jim and I were more than friends._

What this Bones is feeling, Jim cannot even begin to fathom. It must be an awful, horrible bunch of emotions. What it must have been like to see this person - this man who looked _exactly_ like his lover - only to find out that they were not the same person. 

It probably felt like dying. Jim knows what dying feels like and it's not a pleasant experience. 

He swallows, cradling his hands on his lap, and remains silent. There is no way that he can ask Bones about his relationship with the other Jim. It would feel like an invasion of privacy. Also he plainly doesn't want to go there. Jim doesn't want to know a single thing or maybe he does. He has no idea.

What he knows is that _his_ Bones and he never breached that line. Not once, not ever. The thought never crossed their minds. 

Bones was everything to Jim: best friend, father (an abusive father who wielded a hypospray like a weapon), brother, protector, savior, his rock. 

Never _that_.

What Jim also knows that this Bones loved his Jim. _Really_ loved him.

He could tell by the way Bones initially acted around him, the way those familiar eyes gazed at him in longing and awe, the way he spoke to him. Jim didn't know what it was like to be in love. Hell - until he joined Starfleet - he didn't know what it was like to be loved. 

His Bones had shown him that. After every bar fight, every foul mood, tantrum, what have you - Bones never left him and would stay behind to soothe his hurt, sadness, or anger. He didn't disappear when Jim drank himself stupid on every Remembrance Day (also his birthday) and sobbed on the floor of Bones' bathroom as he threw up whatever he had gotten his hands on. Bones was always there in the morning and nursed him through each nasty hangover (with a lecture, of course, because Bones was a doctor, dammit, not a pacifier).

"Why do you do it?" Jim had asked him one night while they were out for dim sum in old Chinatown.

Bones was mid-reach for soy sauce when Jim had asked the question and gave him a curious look. "Do what kid?"

"Put up with my shit," Jim said, poking at his food with chopsticks and sounding like a child who got caught misbehaving.

Bones sighed. "Someone has to," he said. "May as well be me."

Jim was taken aback by the comment and looked up at Bones, afraid of what he'd see. Times like these were when people in Jim's life would make their exit. 

Bones saw the fear in Jim's eyes and shook his head, grinning. "You're like a brother to me and I love you, kid. For better or worse, I'm going to put up with your shit until the day I die."

"Oh," Jim said in a small voice, overcome by emotion. "I've never had a brother..."

"Well now you do, kid. Now shut up and eat your dim sum before I steal some of it."

Bones waves his hand in Jim's face, trying to catch his attention. Jim blinks, surprised and flushes with embarrassment because it's evident that he has spaced out. "You still with me, kid?" the doctor asks, furrowing his brow.

"Yeah sorry," Jim replies as he shifts on the bed. "I was just thinking..."

"I could tell," Bones says curtly. "I recognize that faraway look that you get..." His voice trails off and he clears his throat.

Jim wants to apologize and say that it's okay for him to say these things, but if this Bones is anything like his own, he will ignore him.

Bones exhales deeply and sets down the tricorder. "Everything looks good with the exception of the wound that had to be sutured," he finally says. He takes out a penlight and waves it in front of Jim's eyes, which obediently follow the light without Jim needing to be prompted. "You're lucky that you have a thick skull."

"That's what you always tell me," Jim says automatically. He looks up, pale and uncertain by his words, and is about to apologize to Bones when the older man shakes his head.

Bones holds up his hand. "It's fine," he tells Jim. "No need to start apologizing, Jim."

Jim remains tight lipped because he doesn't know what to say or do. He stares at his pants, part of the black off-duty uniform that Bones had brought him earlier. It feels nice to be wearing real clothing versus the Sick Bay nonsense he had to endure and Jim almost feels like himself again. 

Except he's not himself. Not right now.

He's stuck in the farthest place from home and all he wants to do is get back. And forget this even happened.

"I saw that you didn't have breakfast," Bones observes as he types into his PADD, raising a brow at Jim.

Jim nods. "Wasn't hungry."

"If you're anything like my Jim, you're a bottomless pit and if you don't eat something on the hour, every hour, you go from a completely normal human being to demonic in five seconds flat," Bones retorts. He must see Jim looking towards Chapel because he turns his head, letting out a heavy sigh followed by a disapproving shake of his head. "Ah... say no more. We can replicate something for you when we go to my quarters."

Jim is thankful for the small kindness and gives Bones a smile. "Thanks," he says softly.

"Don't worry about it, kid," Bones replies as he avoids Jim's eyes and turns his attention back to his PADD. "Computer, please note for the record that Chief Medical Officer Leonard McCoy, M.D. has approved Cadet James T. Kirk for discharge from medical care. Cadet will remain on bed rest for five days, pending follow up." 

Jim just sits there, unmoving and docile, not wanting to piss off the doctor. He sees Bones glance up at him, then raise a brow. 

"You can put your shirt on," he says. "Just go slowly. I don't want to have to reheal those wounds anytime soon."

Jim nods and unfolds the black shirt next to him. He pulls it on, feeling the stitches in his side pull as he raises his arms over his head. 

"Ready?" asks Bones as Jim settles the shirt on his torso.

When Jim nods, Bones motions for him to follow. First they go to the doctor's office, where he drops off the PADD in a drawer in his desk. Jim is surprised to see Bones locking the drawer, to which the doctor shrugs.

 _We're not in Kansas anymore_ , Jim thinks to himself as he follows Bones out of Sick Bay and to the turbolift. 

He observes the _ISS Enterprise_ as they walk down the corridors. This ship is the identical twin of his own, right down to a stain on the floor where Sulu had spilt Bones' flask after Poker Night. 

Except this stain is crimson, dark and ominous. It's probably blood and the thought makes Jim feel uneasy. He nearly stumbles into Bones, who is watching him with interest. Neither of them say anything until they reach the lift and step inside.

"Deck 6," Bones commands as the door closes.

The lift begins to the move and Jim suddenly feels claustrophobic. The computer announces their destination and Jim follows Bones out, trailing behind him like a lost dog as they make their way to the doctor's quarters. They pass familiar faces, each of them wearing a wary or merciless expression.

Some nod their heads at the doctor and others look at Jim with curiosity in their eyes, but nothing more.

"Do they know who I am?" asks Jim in a low voice as they stop in front of what he can only surmise is Bones' quarters.

Bones punches in his code and shrugs. "Most of them," he replies as the door slides open. "Word gets around here quickly, especially when someone incurs the hobgoblin's wrath."

He motions for Jim to follow him inside, commanding the lights to turn on. Unlike his Bones' quarters, this one is sparse and has very few personal mementos. There are no antique medical instruments, ancient books, or holovids of friends and family.

Jim remembers that Earth – this universe's Earth – was destroyed by the Romulans and feels a pang of sadness for the doctor.

"It's not much," Bones says, as if he can hear Jim's thoughts, "but it's the only home I got." He is over at the replicator and is punching in a command. The doctor leans against the machine and glances at Jim. "Make yourself at home, kid."

Jim nods his head absently, staring at his new surroundings. "Are you an antiques fanatic?" he asks as he looks out the viewport, staring off into space.

"I was," Bones replies. "Was your Bones?"

"Yeah," he says. "He has a bunch of old medical instruments in his quarters. Loves to threaten to use them on me if I don't follow the doctor's orders."

The memory makes Jim chuckle, which is immediately replaced by sadness. He's glad that his back is turned to Bones so the man cannot see him faltering. Jim feels tears sting his eyes and a lump threatening to suffocate him if he does not swallow it down.

Swiftly, his hands brushes the liquid pooling at the corner of his eyes away and hopes that the doctor doesn't see.

God, he wants to go home.

The replicator beeps and he can hear Bones' movements. "Come on, kid," the doctor says softly. "Eat up."

Jim feels Bones staring at him as Jim composes himself before turning around. He's sure that his eyes are rimmed with red and that the tip of his nose has turned pink as it always does when he's upset. It's probably all too familiar for this Bones and there is probably no point in hiding it, but Jim wants a tendril of self-preservation.

The doctor has replicated a sandwich, which makes Jim's mouth water.

He eats it with gusto while Bones watches him in silence over his personal PADD. "You sure make a mess like him," Bones scolds as he puts the plate in the processor. He points to his lip with an arched brow. "You got a crumb right there."

Jim wipes the wrong side to which he sees Bones shaking his head. To his discomfort, the doctor steps over to him, wiping the offending piece of food away without a second thought. 

They stare at each other. The longing in Bones' eyes makes Jim's heart hammer against his chest. He watches Bones' expression change when the doctor sees the younger man's blue eyes widening.

Bones flushes with embarrassment and possibly sadness, though Jim can't tell. He feels his cheeks burning and swallows roughly. Jim hears Bones muttering an apology as he backs away, carding a hand through his short hair.

"God," Bones whispers, his back towards Jim. "I'm so sorry." He turns his head, his eyes glistening. "I forgot for a moment… that you're not him."

Jim shakes his head. "It's fine," he says. "Really… it's fine."

"It's not fine," Bones snaps, turning to face Jim. He looks so upset – eyes watering, chin trembling…that horrible tired look he gets when he's overwhelmed. "You two are so much alike. You can't even eat without making a mess of something. He always got something on his uniform. Always! And he would get this innocent look, like he didn't do anything wrong." Bones' voice cracks and for a moment, Jim thinks this man may cry. He doesn't though because while he's not his Bones, he is Bones. "He would just look at me with those big blue eyes…"

Jim nods, trying to understand but he knows that he doesn't. Not really. "I have no idea what this must be like for you," he finally says, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Spock made me watch," Bones tells him, tears escaping his hazel eyes. "When he murdered Jim… he forced me to watch because I was the one who brought him on board. The security officers were carrying him out and that half-breed grabbed me as he followed them out. Once they put him in the pod, Spock just leaned over and crushed his throat with his bare hands while the officers held me…"

Jim shakes his head. "Please don't tell me this," he pleads.

"After he was done, he made me call Jim's time of death."

"Stop. Please just stop."

"Do you even know what it's like to hope that by some miracle that they are alive and you can save them?"

"Bones stop."

"I had to touch his neck and look for a pulse that wasn't there…"

Jim is seized by madness and grabs the doctor by the biceps, shoving himself against a wall. As Bones' back collides with the solid surface, Jim hears him groan in pain. "Stop! Just stop! I don't want to know what happened to him. I don't want to know how he died!" he screams in Bones' face. "I know we are alike, but I'm not him. He's dead. I'm alive. I'm alive right in front of you and somewhere my Bones, my crew is trying to find me. I'm not him. I'm not your Jim!" 

He is fisting the front of Bones' uniform, his knuckles paling from the force of his grip and he is shaking uncontrollably. He is terrified.

Of dying in this horrible place.

Of never going home. 

"You have to help me," he begs, his voice shaking, on the verge of hysteria. "You have to help me get home, Bones. Please help -"

His words are cut off by Bones crushing his lips against his.

There is a moment in which Jim forgets whose mouth is covering his with a heated, sloppy kiss and he closes his eyes out of habit. He feels the stubble on Bones' face brushing against his skin and Jim is violently thrown back into reality. He lets out a muffled shout of protest into the other man's mouth, feeling Bones' dry lips scraping against his own and their teeth gnashing together, almost painfully. 

 _Nonononononono_ , Jim thinks as his mind races. Jim groans in protest as he attempts to pull himself away only to find that the doctor has both of his wrists in a firm grip that threatens to leave bruises on his skin.

Panic is rising in his throat as Jim tries to yank his wrists out of the doctor's grasp. This Bones is surprisingly strong and doesn't let go as he shoves his tongue - hot and slick - into Jim's mouth, ignore the sounds of protest coming from the younger man. 

Jim suddenly bites down on Bones' lip, hard enough to draw blood. He tastes the other man's blood pools into his mouth – sickening and coppery, and ignites a surprised shout from the doctor. The crushing grip on his wrists falls away and Jim is able to free himself, stumbling backward, his hands scrambling for purchase before he slumps into a chair. He is breathing heavily and watching Bones as he brings two fingers to touch his lip, wincing as he presses against the bite mark.

There is blood dribbling down Bones' chin and when the doctor looks up, he is pale and shaking. "I'm sorry," he croaks.

Jim doesn't say anything, but continues to stare him in disbelief. It isn't his Bones, but a line has been crossed. The thought of never being able to look at his friend, his real friend, the same way again makes him sick to his stomach.

"Kid," Bones says, taking a step forward, "I'm sorry." He is reaching out for Jim's shoulder.

Jim jumps to his feet, his eyes narrowing to a deadly glare, and backs the doctor into the wall. "Don't you _ever_ do that again," he hisses, shaking a finger at the doctor.

The doctor is silent and nods his head in understanding.

"Good," Jim tells him, lowering his hand that is trembling in anger.

Or maybe shock. He has no idea and in muted horror, Jim sits back down and turning around so that he doesn't have to face Bones. He can feel the doctor's eyes boring into his back and silently wills Bones to go away. But Jim is in his quarters, so that probably won't happen until it's on the doctor's own volition. 

 _Fuck my life_ , he thinks as he stares at the far wall.

 

* * *

 

McCoy comes out of his bedroom to see that Jim is still seated at the table, like he was two hours ago.

The kid is now hunched over, his head pillowed against an outstretched arm and snoring softly as he dozes in the uncomfortable position. From the threshold of his bedroom, McCoy studies the younger man from afar as he sleeps.

It's a painfully familiar scene and the doctor can feel his chest ache with longing as he watches his Jim's doppelganger. They sleep the exact same way: their mouths ever so slightly open, partially smooshed against their arms (or whatever surface they can find); the way their dark lashes break on top of their cheekbones on each breath, and down to the furrow in their brow when they are uncomfortable. 

McCoy had left Jim alone shortly after their incident. He was used to Jim's temper, though the younger man rarely turned his wrath onto McCoy.

This Jim however... for a moment, McCoy was sure that the kid was about to launch a full on physical attack.

He could see the other Jim's cheeks turning bright red, his wide eyes darkening, and how his body quaked from the rage boiling under the surface. Honestly,

McCoy didn't plan on blaming the kid for punching him and is surprised that he did not. Instead he went into a quiet head space, something that McCoy has never seen from his Jim. He stays around long enough to see this Jim zone out, lost in his own thoughts, before going into his bedroom to read, tidy up, do _something_ \- _anything_ \- to take his mind off his slip up.

And god, was it a slip up.

No - the word was too light. 

Kissing this Jim Kirk is a complete and utter disaster. 

McCoy has no idea why he did it - probably to shut the kid up before someone heard his ranting and raving, but he's afraid that whatever trust this person has in him is now gone. He knows that telling him how his counterpart died is probably too much, too soon and to add the unwanted physical contact...

...it may push him over the edge. If he isn't there already.

Jim shifts in his sleep, rubbing his cheek against the material of his sleeve, and grumbles incoherently before falling silent. 

McCoy knows that Jim probably doesn't want the doctor anywhere near his person, but decides that on top of the healing injuries he endured, the kid doesn't need to wake up with a stiff neck and a sore back. He quietly goes to the table and gently shakes Jim's shoulder once, then twice. On the third time, McCoy watches Jim stirring ever so slightly.

"Come on, kid," he says, shaking him again. "Time to make your way over to the couch."

McCoy sees Jim blinking his eyes, unfocused, and tired. The kid lifts his head, looking at McCoy though bleary blue eyes masked with confusion.

"Bones?" Jim mumbles, his voice thick with sleep. "Am I home?"

McCoy shakes his head. "Not yet, kid," he replies, grabbing Jim by the bicep and hauling him to his feet, where Jim sways. "Come on... couch time."

He guides a stumbling Jim over to the couch, where the latter falls gracelessly onto the cushions. McCoy grabs a pillow and blanket from a storage unit and makes up Jim's makeshift bed, as the kid yawns and struggles to stay awake. 

When he's done, McCoy gently pushes Jim down onto the cushions and goes to take off his boots as the younger man nuzzles the pillow, closing his eyes as he does so. 

"Bones," he hears Jim mumble as he pulls off the first boot. McCoy looks up and sees Jim staring at him with a sleepy expression on his face. "What did you mean by not yet?"

McCoy shrugs. "You're not home yet, is all."

"But you'll try to get me home."

"I'll do what I can, kid."

The answer seems to satisfy Jim, who closes his eyes and seemingly drifts off as McCoy takes off his other boot.

As he's draping the blanket over his prone body, McCoy hears Jim say, "If you ever kiss me again, I'll punch you in the face."

"I know," McCoy replies, almost chuckling. "No need to worry about it again."

"Good," Jim grumbles with his eyes closed and drops off into oblivion.


	4. Chapter 4

McCoy is dreaming.

He knows this is because he’s back on Earth – specifically at Starfleet Academy and there is sunlight spilling through the windows of the dorm room that he and Jim share.

It’s just like how he remembers it – his side is tidy like a surgeon’s table whereas Jim’s portion of the room is organized chaos as the younger man likes to call it. 

McCoy is on his bed, pressed up against the headboard with his PADD resting on his lap. The jacket to his cadet reds is hanging off the back of his chair and his boots are in the closet.

Everything is just like it should be.

The door bursts open, but McCoy can hear Jim’s voice booming down the hallway long before he comes to their room. He glances up momentarily to see Jim strolling in – cocky grin, wind-blown hair, and rosy cheeks from the cold weather. 

“Heya Bones,” Jim chirps as he drops his bag on the floor and hops over the end of McCoy’s bed, making himself quite at home.

McCoy arches an unforgiving brow at being jostled as he studies for an exam, but says nothing. Of course this doesn’t deter Jim because it’s Jim Kirk and there’s nothing that deters this kid.

“I said…”

“I heard what you said,” McCoy snaps without looking up from his PADD. “Now be quiet.”

“Looks like someone got up on the wrong side of the bed,” Jim observes with humor in his voice. McCoy, without looking up, knows that Jim is wagging his strong brows that obnoxious way that drives the doctor absolutely up a wall in more ways that he cares to admit.

In all honesty, McCoy has been trying to bury his growing feelings for his friend for ages. It probably started the moment they first met on that stupid shuttle. Everything about Jim was infectious and not even the grumpy Dr. McCoy was immune. 

Sometimes McCoy caught himself staring at his roommate and friend far too long as he saunters across their room only wearing a towel, studying the lines and planes of his body, the trail of golden hair travelling downward towards darker places, or when he stares too long into those cerulean pools that sparkle.

Jim doesn’t say anything because McCoy knows that Jim doesn’t notice. Jim is too wrapped up in Jim. He’s a cocky, arrogant son of a bitch who pretty much gets whatever he wants. There is always a steady stream of sexual partners (mostly female, McCoy observes, with the occasional alien life form whose gender cannot be defined as male or female) or people comming Jim to go out.

He always drags McCoy along for the ride, which is fine and all...

Except McCoy wants the kid all to himself. 

True, he knows Jim better than anyone else, but it’s not the same. He wants _him_ \- temper, arrogance, body, and soul. Forget the infamous Kirk name or his genius-level IQ.

McCoy just wants _him_. If only he knew how to make Jim his.

“Why are you studying?” asks Jim, his voice puncturing through McCoy’s thoughts. “It’s Friday.”

McCoy glances up at him through his thick lashes and scowls. “Well some of us aren’t sponges,” he retorts as Jim makes a face.

“Too bad,” Jim replies as he toes off his boots before settling back against the wall.

McCoy harrumphs, shaking his head.

“You can still come get a bite to eat with me,” Jim tells him, leaning over the mattress so that he’s practically falling against McCoy’s legs. He’s batting his dark lashes and making those blue eyes look wider. “Please Bones?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have to study, kid.”

“Please?” he whines, sticking his lower lip out in a pout. He tilts his head and makes his lower lip quiver.

McCoy rolls his eyes, trying to hide the fact that he wants nothing more than to suck on that lower lip and make Jim’s entire body quiver with wanting. “Infant,” he snorts. 

Jim is still doing it and his puppy dog eyes are getting larger. 

 _If you start whimpering, so help me..._ McCoy thinks as he shoots Jim another glare. “I have no idea what you’re trying to accomplish here, Jim, but if you wanted to annoy me, congrats. It worked.”

“Does that mean you’ll throw on some civvies and get a burger with me?” Jim asks, his face going back to normal. Normal being that his lips are curled into that _fucking_ cocky grin.

“No,” McCoy says before going back to his PADD.

“But Bones!”

“No Jim.”

“Come _on_!” Jim whines, grabbing the PADD out of McCoy’s hands and tossing it on the floor. “It’s Friday and we barely get to hang out as it is.”

“And you think interrupting my studying and being a pain in my ass is going to make me want to hang out with you?” McCoy growls. He’s attempting to sound angry, but in reality, he’s just frustrated.

Jim shrugs. “Is it working?”

“Go away,” McCoy groans as he gets off the bed to retrieve his PADD.

Jim is faster than him and grabs it, keeping the device out of arm’s reach. “In case if you forgot, I live here too.”

“Jim,” McCoy sighs, exasperated. “Hand it over.”

“Hand what over?”

“My PADD. Give it back.”

Jim tries to look innocent. “Give what back?”

“My PADD, you juvenile delinquent!” McCoy yells. “Hand it over now!”

Jim is laughing at him. “Or what?”

“This isn’t a game, kid. I have an exam first thing on Monday and I really need to get some studying done before my shift tomorrow night,” McCoy snaps. He makes a grab for the PADD, but fails to get it out of Jim’s hands.

Jim is shaking his head. “I’d love to see you try to get this back from me by tomorrow night,” he chuckles as he ducks out of McCoy’s reach. “Come and grab a burger with me, then I’ll hand it over when we get back.”

McCoy can feel his cheeks burning. “Kid...” he warns before grabbing Jim by the front of his uniform and pushing him against the wall.

He hears Jim’s cry of surprise as his backside hits the wall, as well as the PADD falling onto the floor. Jim’s eyes are wide and his mouth is open in shock. McCoy can feel the kid’s warm breath against his cheek as they stare at each other, only inches apart.

“Bones...” Jim whispers hoarsely, his blue eyes searching his friend’s face.

McCoy closes the gap and kisses him, feeling Jim’s muffled cry vibrating in his mouth. He doesn’t pull back because McCoy knows that he’s stepped over the line and has passed the point of no return.

He deepens the kiss, his tongue probing Jim’s mouth and slowly gaining entrance to explore. He tastes like peppermint and something else. McCoy pulls Jim’s body closer to his, deepening the kiss as he does so. 

Jim groans and the sound goes straight to McCoy’s dick. His heart is hammering against his chest as Jim cups the back of McCoy’s head, his fingers winding themselves through the dark strains, assuring and warm. They stay that way for a while, their tongues dancing around each other, exploring and learning, before they pull apart breathing heavily.

“Please don’t tell me that you did that to get your PADD back,” Jim whispers as he presses his forehead against McCoy’s.

McCoy scoffs. “What kind of guy do you take me for?”

“Okay,” Jim says, pulling McCoy closer, their spit-slick lips touching. “Good.”

They are kissing again and moving towards McCoy’s bed, despite Jim’s being closer. They are fumbling with buttons, zippers, and clasps in an effort to shed their clothing. McCoy has his hands up Jim’s shirt, exploring the planes and lines of his torso when they fall on his bed, both of them grunting. 

McCoy pulls the offending piece of clothing off Jim’s body, momentarily breaking the kiss, and presses his lips against Jim’s neck, working down.

“Bones,” Jim moans.

McCoy nibbles on Jim’s collarbone, licking and sucking as he teases the younger man. He brushes a thumb against one of Jim’s nipples and chuckles when Jim arches his back.

“Bones,” Jim says again, this time sounding urgent. “Bones.”

McCoy looks up at Jim, seeing his bright blue eyes, flushed cheeks, and kiss swollen lips. “Are we going to have a problem?” he asks.

“No,” Jim snaps, clearly not amused with what McCoy is implying. “Who’s that?”

“Who’s who?”

“Who’s that on my bed?”

McCoy is puzzled and turns his head, gasping. Sitting across from them on Jim’s bed is a man wearing a black uniform. He is staring at them with burning blue eyes set against pale skin, watching and wondering. He has the same scarring on his chin, the same full lips, and strong brows... 

Everything is the same. This man’s hands which are clutching the mattress, his unruly hair, the way his mouth is pinched into a thin line when he’s uncertain or uncomfortable. 

McCoy realizes that he’s staring at the other Jim and this is just a dream. “Oh god,” he breathes, tightening his grip on his Jim.

The other Jim begins to scream.

The screaming from the other room is what wakes McCoy up from his slumber with a jolt. His heart is pounding against his chest, threatening to burst out. He struggles to even out his breathing as the doctor stares into the darkness of his bedroom when he hears the screaming again.

 _Jim_ , he thinks, leaping out of bed and running into the main room. “Lights thirty-percent,” he commands, wincing as the lights come up.

Thrashing on the couch is Jim Kirk, his face red and streaked with tears. His limbs are all over the place, fighting against the enemies in his own mind while his cries of terror pierce the air and echo off the walls of McCoy’s quarters. 

“Jim,” McCoy says as he makes his way over to the couch. “Jim, wake up.” 

Jim lashes out with a clawed hand and nearly scratching the skin on McCoy’s bare legs with his nails. The doctor grabs Jim’s wrist, igniting another scream, and presses down. 

“Jim,” McCoy says louder as he kneels down, grabbing Jim’s other wrist and pinning him down to the couch before he hurts himself.

Jim is screaming incoherently, though McCoy picks up _stop, no, Spock, Bones_. The younger man’s breath is quickening, coming in desperate gasps, verging on hyperventilation.

His Jim used to have nightmares, but never like this. He would scream himself (and McCoy) awake, trembling and sweating, before crossing the room they shared and crawling into McCoy’s bed. 

It was silly at first; two grown men sharing a tiny, dorm room bed, but McCoy knew about Jim’s lack of familial history and figured out that no one had been there for him. So the doctor let Jim into his bed, holding the younger man to him while whispering soothing words into his ear as Jim fell back asleep. 

And when their relationship changed and they pushed their beds together... McCoy figured out different ways to comfort Jim.

But this... this was not his Jim.

McCoy watches as Jim struggles before deciding that the kid won’t wake on his own. He gives the younger man a firm shake, followed by another. “Jim!” he yells. “Goddammit, Jim, wake up!” 

Blue eyes are looking up at him, unfocused and clouded with terror. It takes a moment for Jim to realize that he’s awake and bolts upright, nearly hitting McCoy in the nose with his forehead. The doctor drops his hold on Jim’s wrists and watches as the younger man sucks in a breath, then another one.

After a few tense minutes, Jim seems to remember where he is and who he’s with. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“It’s fine,” McCoy replies, watching the younger man very closely. “Do you want some water?”

Jim nods and he goes to fetch him some, along with a damp washcloth for his face. After Jim has consumed the water and wiped his face down, he seems less wound up. A large part of McCoy wishes he had grabbed his tricorder on his way out of his bedroom, but he wonders what good it would really do. 

“He used to have nightmares, too,” McCoy says as he sits down on the other end of the couch. “Not like that, but... they happened on occasion. He never told me what they were about and I never asked.”

Jim is staring at him, warily, and nods. “I wasn’t going to tell you anyway,” he states. “But you knew that.”

McCoy shrugs noncommittally. “I don’t like to push.”

“You pushed earlier,” Jim says bitterly.

“I did,” McCoy replies neutrally. He watches Jim’s face briefly flicker with anger before it goes back to that lost expression. Lost and helpless. 

A few uncomfortable minutes pass before McCoy rises off the couch and heads to the bedroom. He turns around in the threshold and says, “I’ll be in here if you need me.” McCoy sees Jim nod and makes his exit. 

He has to work in four hours and it’s been a difficult night to say the least. McCoy could probably call in and let M’Benga deal with Med Bay for the day, but he’d rather not. At some point he drifts off, lingering in the twilight of being asleep and being awake, when he hears someone coming into his bedroom. 

McCoy cracks open one of his eyes and sees Jim’s silhouette as he approaches the bed. The bed shifts as the younger man pulls back the blankets and crawls in between them without a sound. He listens to Jim settling himself into the bed, his back towards McCoy.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” he hears Jim say roughly.

“I know.”

“I just...” Jim begins to say.

McCoy briefly wonders if this Jim and his own counterpart shared a bed after the younger man’s nightmares. The thought is fleeting and McCoy tells him, “No need to explain, kid.”

“Okay,” Jim whispers in the darkness.

They sleep.

 

* * *

  
McCoy is on his third cup of coffee in as many hours, exhausted from the night before. As the dark liquid fills his canteen, he feels a pang of envy for Jim, who was still asleep in the other room. Originally, he was going to go to his shift, but in the end, decided to call in, saying that he was going to catch up on paperwork from his quarters. Dr. M’Benga is more than capable to keep Sick Bay running for a day or so. Or so he hopes.  
  
McCoy flips through his PADD, half reading through reports, half listening for any noise that may or may not come from his bedroom. He’s checked in on Jim more than once, each time finding the same thing: the younger man taking up as much of the bed as possible with contorted limbs and tangled sheets. 

Asleep doesn’t even begin to cover it.

The kid was out cold, emotionally and mentally exhausted. He barely moved as McCoy roamed around the bedroom, grabbing clothing and bumping into things.

McCoy checked his vitals with the tricorder before getting to work, noting the low grade fever that made Jim’s cheeks flush. It wasn’t anything serious and to be honest, McCoy wasn’t really that surprised.

The kid had been through the ringer and last night definitely didn’t help matters, but at least they were both able to fall back asleep without any other excitement. The chime from the door to his quarters drags McCoy out of his head.

Groaning, he walks over to the panel and presses down on the intercom. “What?” he snaps.  
  
“Doctor,” Spock drawls over the speakers, “I heard that you were working from your quarters and I began to wonder... how is your patient feeling? Surely he would like some company.”  
  
McCoy’s stomach coils into knots as he opens the door. “He’s resting,” he snaps as soon as he sees Spock’s face. He’s accompanied by Sulu, who looks at him with dead brown eyes.  
  
“Resting?” asks Spock as he walks into the doctor’s quarters, looking around. “Is that what you call it?”  
  
McCoy crosses his arms over his chest and feels his eyebrow arching up into his hairline. “See for yourself if you don’t believe me,” he answers with defiance.  
  
Spock raises a brow and motions for Sulu to check with a nod of his head. McCoy watches as Sulu ventures into his bedroom, swallowing down the nerves that are constricting his throat.  
  
“Why are you here?” asks McCoy. “Don’t you have a ship to run? A planet to take over? Something else to do besides bother me?”  
  
Spock contemplates the doctor and smirks. “I was just inquiring on the recovery of our guest, doctor. As your captain, it’s only natural for me to ensure the wellbeing of others on board my ship.”  
  
“If you want to know when you can interrogate him next, you’re going to be waiting for a while,” McCoy hisses as him as he walks over to his desk. “He developed a fever last night and it requires some monitoring.”  
  
“Too much activity?” Spock asks in a mocking tone.  
  
McCoy doesn’t answer because it’s not worth the effort. “I will let you know when he will be available for questioning,” he answers.  
  
“You know I prefer harsher methods,” Spock tells him.  
  
“I know,” McCoy snaps. “I’ve seen your handiwork.”  
  
Spock arches a brow and says nothing as he turns his attention to the view port. Sulu comes out of the bedroom, looking shocked.  
  
“I’ll be damned,” the helmsman replies in awe, “it _is_ him.” He looks to McCoy, shaking his head. “Kirk must have nine lives.”  
  
McCoy says nothing, keeping his eyes on Spock whose back is to him.  
  
“Helmsman,” Spock says, not turning around.  
  
“Yes sir.”  
  
“Set a course for Alpha Quadrant,” Spock commands. “We have some business to conclude.”  
  
Sulu nods his head and leaves them in the doctor’s quarters.  
  
“What’s in Alpha Quadrant?” asks McCoy taking a step towards Spock. “Interested in seeing what’s left of our home worlds, Spock?”  
  
Spock turns his head so that the doctor can see his profile. “You know what’s in Alpha Quadrant, Dr. McCoy.”  
  
At first McCoy is about to say that he doesn’t until he sees that smirk dancing over Spock’s lips. That knowing smirk with a secret to tell. Horrible secrets, horrible answers, just horrible. 

He doesn’t say it, but the words are on his tongue. McCoy can feel the blood draining from his face, leaving him feeling light headed and cold.

 _No_ , he thinks desperately. _No. You’re not..._ McCoy shakes his head as his mouth opens, words falling dead on his lips.  
  
“Ah,” Spock says. “You remember.”  
  
McCoy wonders if he could take on the captain and murder him here in his very own quarters. He’s imagining choking the life out of him, watching him suffer as Jim had. “You’re sick,” McCoy sputters out.  
  
“Perhaps,” Spock replies, seemingly not offended by McCoy’s words, “but I figured that a familiar setting would jog Cadet Kirk’s memory. He may be more willing to divulge how he lived with a slight push.”  
  
McCoy swallows back bile and says nothing.  
  
“We are two days away from Alpha Quadrant, doctor,” Spock says casually as he walks to the door. “Better make the most of it.”  
  
With that, he is gone and leaving a feeling a dread in McCoy’s quarters. “Shit,” McCoy hisses, raking a hand through his hair. “Shit, shit, shit, shit!”

He looks towards his bedroom. Utterly another curse under his breath, McCoy runs into his bedroom and clambers onto the bed, grabbing Jim’s leg to shake it. He is met with a groan and some movement. 

McCoy turns Jim over, gripping both of the younger man’s shoulders, and shakes him. “Jim,” he says, panicked. “Jim. Up. _Now_!”  
  
“What?” Jim snaps, suddenly batting McCoy’s hands off of him. “I was sleeping!”  
  
“Nap time’s over, Sleeping Beauty,” McCoy replies, shaking him again to make sure Jim is actually awake. He is greeted with angry blue eyes that scowl at him in the dim light. “We have a problem. A big one.”  
  
Jim sits up in the bed, studying him. “What is it?”  
  
“Spock’s just set a course to the Alpha Quadrant,” McCoy tells him. “To Delta Vega.”


	5. Chapter 5

Jim watches Bones pacing his quarters and practically burning a hole into the carpet with his frantic footsteps. He doesn't tells the doctor false assurances and opts to remain silent, trying to think of escape plans A, B, and (if needed) C. 

He knows that he's dealing with Spock, regardless of which Spock it is, and that he's already calculating the likelihood of Jim trying to escape. Jim also knows Spock's weaknesses and that when the man is too engaged, he has tunnel vision.

If he is correct (which he probably is), this Spock has the same fault and Jim can use it to his advantage. 

"Bones," Jim says as he watches the doctor furiously muttering to himself. He's doing that thing where he crosses his arms over his chest and is chewing on his thumbnail. "Bones!"

He sees Bones looking at him, his face pale and alarmed. "How you are remaining so damn calm about your impending death, I will never know," he snaps, eyes wild.

"I have an idea," he says calmly. "Have you ever heard of transwarp theory?" 

Judging by the confused expression that suddenly appears on the doctor's face, that would be a definite no. At least he finally stopped pacing because it was driving Jim crazy.

"Transwarp theory?" Bones echoes.

"The ability to beam an object or person from one planet to an adjacent one," Jim explains, watching Bones go from confused to shaking his head. "While traveling at warp speed? Nothing? This isn't ringing a bell?" Jim leans back in the chair, uttering a curse under his breath.

"How is that going to help you, kid?" Bones growls at him.

"In my universe, I was _marooned_ on Delta Vega by my Spock. While I was down there, I met Montgomery Scott who developed the theory," Jim explains, leaving out the part about the elder Spock.

"Okay… so?"

"I know how to program the transporter so that we can get off the ship and onto the Starfleet outpost on Delta Vega," he says, leaning forward. "There is an outpost on Delta Vega, right?"

Bones creases his brow as he wracks his brain before finally nodding. "It used to be a Starfleet outpost before a rebel sector took it over."

"A rebel sector?"

"Yeah," Bones replies as he heads over to a cabinet near the replicator. He is shuffling around inside until Jim hears him make the noise Bones typically makes when he has found what he is looking for.

Jim makes a face, watching the doctor's back and wondering what the hell he could be doing. When Bones turns around, he is holding two tumblers of what is probably bourbon. _Well… at least that stayed the same_ , Jim thinks as the doctor approaches him.

"I assume you drink," Bones grumbles as he hands Jim a glass. He takes a long sip of his own drink and from Jim's point of view, it looks like it burns. "Drink up, kid. Doctor's orders."

Jim smiles a real smile for the first time in days as he brings the glass to his lips. He takes a small sip to appease Bones before saying, "Tell me about the rebel sector."

"That," Bones says as he goes back to the cabinet to fetch the entire bottle. "After Earth was destroyed, the Federation became the Terran Empire. We colonized Risa by force and Starfleet became the Imperial clusterfuck that it is now. It was messy business – lots of violence, bloodshed… people were running scared and when people are scared, they do stupid shit."

Jim tilts his head, curious. "But why resort to violence?"

"I wish I could tell you, kid," Bones replies, sadly. "Anyway, there were – _are_ – some who'd rather uphold the rules and regulations of the Federation than employ the Empire's current tactics. Rumor has it that they made their main outpost on Delta Vega or somewhere nearby. No one knows where it is or who's in charge." The doctor looks at Jim with that expression he gets when he knows Jim is up to something. "But _you_ know, don't you?"

"Maybe," Jim says, his tone dark. He sips the bourbon, thinking.

If the outpost is in the same location as the one in his universe, he could transport him _and_ Bones to safety. The only question was getting to a transporter pad without attracting too much attention from Spock and his crew.

Spock ran a tight ship, from what little Jim had seen, and the crew would be willing to do whatever their captain wanted.

Including killing Jim in case he tried to escape.

"Bones," Jim asks.

"Yeah?"

"Is there a transporter pad in Med Bay?"

 

* * *

 

McCoy doesn't like this. Not one bit. Not even an iota. 

And he's going to kill Jim if Spock doesn't beat him to the punch. 

He is walking shoulder to shoulder with Jim as they are escorted to Spock's ready room by Sulu and some red shirt whose name escapes McCoy. He is trying not to cast nervous glances in Jim's direction, but he can't seem to control his eyes as he looks over at the younger man, who seems perfectly composed. 

As composed as a dead man walking.

Unless his crazy stunt _actually_ works.

They both knew that Spock would summon them once they were near Delta Vega and were unsurprised when Uhura appeared at McCoy's quarters the evening before with a personal invitation delivered with a sneer. Jim played his part of the still-ill patient perfectly, lying half-awake on the couch as Uhura told him and McCoy that they were expected to be in Spock's presence at 10:00 hours.

McCoy watched Uhura as she studied Jim with those dark eyes. "What's wrong with him?" she finally asked, tilting her head with an arched brow.

"He's been running a fever," McCoy explained in a clinical tone.

Uhura shifts her weight from one leg to the other. "Does Spock know?"

"I sent him a communique yesterday," McCoy says in a gruff tone. "He's well aware of Kirk's current condition, though I doubt that matters much to him."

Uhura casts him a disdainful expression. "It will be easier to break him," she replies darkly. She turns back to Jim with fluid grace and says with a smirk, "He has more fight than I thought." 

With that she leaves them.

Neither of them sleep, not really. McCoy lumbers between wakefulness and drifting off into oblivion, his nerves shot to shit about their impending plan. 

At some point in the night, Jim comes into McCoy's bedroom and crawls into bed without a word. His warm presence and additional weight on the mattress is welcomed, allowing McCoy to finally fall asleep. 

The summons comes and McCoy goes to fetch Jim from his bedroom, thus spinning their plan into motion.

Now McCoy watches Jim as they stand outside of Spock's ready room. The younger man looks a bit peaky, his eyes bleary and his cheeks flushed. He is still standing upright, though McCoy sees that his left hand is beginning to tremble. 

"It's going to be fine," McCoy utters under his breath, rousing a sardonic half-smile from Jim.

The door opens and they are pushed into Spock's ready room, where he is waiting for them. His back is turned towards them, his hands clasped behind him, as he stares out the open viewport. 

McCoy can see the fragments of Vulcan floating around in a belt of debris, much like the Milky Way, in the darkness of space. Behind it is the planet of Delta Vega, an icy tundra of blues, greys, and white. He swallows down a lump in his throat, remembering that somewhere on that planet is his Jim's final resting place.

"Breathtaking isn't it?" asks Spock as he turns his head slightly. There is a mocking smile on his face meant to rattle McCoy. "I forgot that you hadn't seen it before."

"He's here," McCoy says bitterly, "just like you asked."

Spock turns around, the light reflecting off his command gold tunic, and eyes Jim's current state. "So, he is ill," the captain muses.

"Why would I lie about that?"

"Why _wouldn't_ you?" Spock counters as he approaches Jim, who is now pale and trembling. 

The kid looks like he's trying not to throw up on him. The flush on his cheeks is making his complexion blotchy and is spreading to his neck, which is coated with a thin sheen of sweat. 

"You look unwell, cadet," Spock observes, getting too close to Jim's personal space and making McCoy's blood boil.

Jim swallows roughly. "I'm fine," he replies hoarsely.

"So brave," Spock ridicules. "Will you tell me what I want to hear or do you plan on making this difficult again?"

McCoy keeps his eyes trained on Jim, who doesn't reply. The younger man is swaying on his feet and blinks his eyes, trying to remain focused on Spock. "Jim," McCoy says, prodding him to answer. "You okay there?"

Jim turns to him, his blue eyes blazing with fever and something else twinkling - defiance. 

He's about to open his mouth to reply when he vomits up his meager breakfast onto the floor of Spock's ready room. The commander steps back out of the line of fire, a disgusted look on his face. As Spock is about to inquire about what the hell is going on, Jim's eyes roll back into his skull and he drops to the ground with a sickening thud.

McCoy rushes to him just as Jim begins to seize, his limbs thrashing uncontrollably on the floor. "Shit!" McCoy yells as he presses his hand down on Jim's chest, holding him down on the ground as he grabs for the tricorder with the other one. 

He can hear Jim's hitched breathing and the grunts he makes as the seizure wracks his system. A stream of saliva drips out of the corner of the younger man's mouth, tinged pink and frothy.

"What is going on, _doctor_?" Spock asks in an aggravated tone as Jim stops seizing and lies on unconscious on the floor.

McCoy doesn't respond, opting to grab his comm. "We need a medical team to the captain's ready room," he orders. "Stat!"

"Yes sir," he hears Chapel reply before he sets the comm down to stabilize Jim, who begins seizing again.

He looks up at Spock, who is towering over them, and says, "It's Rugalan fever."

"Rugalan fever?" asks Spock.

"The rash, the seizures, high fever…" McCoy explains as Jim stops twitching. "Vomiting." 

Spock doesn't say a word and just stares down at them, his dark eyes calculating. If he's buying this bullshit, then all the better. The medical team arrives in record time, allowing McCoy to stabilize Jim before they transport him down to Sick Bay.

As the younger man is loaded onto the awaiting stretcher, McCoy turns to Spock and says, "Everyone who has come into contact needs to stay in here until M'Benga can confirm that none of you were exposed."

This makes Spock's brow arch. "Exposed?"

"Rugalan Fever is highly contagious, captain," McCoy replies with his doctor voice.

Spock doesn't buy it. "Dr. McCoy, you of all people should know that every member of this crew has been vaccinated against Rugalan Fever per Imperial regulations."

"Yes," McCoy replies, "but clearly Cadet Kirk has not. Per Imperial medical regulations, crew members exposed to a contagious disease must be quarantined and examined by medical personnel before being cleared for duty. Cadet Kirk could have picked up a different strain during his travels, something one of you may not be immune to."

Spock raises a brow. "I see your point," he concedes.

"Thank you, captain," McCoy says in a grateful tone. "I will have Dr. M'Benga and Nurse Chapel report here post-haste."

"That would be much appreciated," Spock replies through gritted teeth.

With that, McCoy and his team leave. He purposely doesn't tell his team to have the hallways cleared out because the fewer people en route to Sick Bay when McCoy and Jim make their grand escape, the better. He yells at them, ordering that the hallways be evacuated and anyone they have come into contact with be quarantined in their location. 

When they arrive in Med Bay, McCoy maneuvers the stretcher to the quarantine room closest to the transporter pad as he and Jim planned. The team medical spreads out, grabbing supplies and equipment as McCoy quietly slips the antidote into a hypospray.

Jim is partially awake on the stretcher, shivering and sweaty. He is looking at McCoy with a death glare and grits through his teeth, "I'm going to kill you."

McCoy chuckles as he leans over Jim, tilting his head to inject him. "You say that now," McCoy mutters into Jim's ear, feeling the heat radiating off the younger man's skin.

"I say that always," Jim grunts as the hypospray is injected into his neck.

McCoy nods. "The extra phaser is in my pocket," he says.

The antidote is fast acting.

McCoy barely has time to register Jim's lightning fast movements, and as soon as a nurse comes back into the room, the phaser goes off, stunning the nurse. Jim launches himself off the bed. They run out of the room, their hearts pounding in their chests, towards the transporter pad. Jim is firing at the medical staff, giving McCoy a clear path to get to the pad ahead of him.

Everything starts to go in slow motion, like one of those old holos that he used to watch with his Jim. 

They are locking themselves in the transporter room, McCoy overriding the security panel with his code as Jim rushes towards the controls, his fingers punching in coordinates. The sirens start blaring at obscene volumes, though the roaring of blood in McCoy's ears practically drowns them out.

Red lights are flashing and chaos is erupting through the glass of the transporter room.

McCoy looks up, seeing the security team charging into Sick Bay, their skin and uniforms drenched in red light. 

Spock is front and center, his teeth exposed in an animalistic snarl, and pointing at them. 

McCoy swears his heart stops.

"Get on the pad," Jim barks. 

McCoy glances at him, confused. 

"Bones, get on the damn pad!" Jim yells over the sirens.

This time McCoy listens, rushing the pad and standing in place. Jim joins him moments later as security tries to get into the room, pounding the glass and swearing as they realize that their efforts are futile, even though McCoy sees a few phasers being aimed at the door's control panel. The transporter is powering up and McCoy feels his heart jump into his throat.

"I got this, Bones," Jim tells him as he raises his phaser at the transporter control panel.

McCoy snorts. "You always say that…"

"…and I'm always right," Jim says, completing his sentence while firing the phaser at the panel as light envelopes them both.


	6. Chapter 6

The blinding light recedes and Jim finds himself in familiar territory. 

It’s the pitiful transporter room of the Delta Vega outpost, dimly light and seemingly abandoned. Pipes are hissing and leaking, dripping fluid onto the ground. The unused equipment is covered with rust and slime, slowly withering and dying without someone’s care. 

A light flickers over Bones’ head, buzzing and sputtering as it struggles to remain on, making the doctor’s pale skin look almost green.  
  
For a moment, he flashes back to the interrogation room of the _ISS Enterprise_. The single light hanging from the ceiling - swinging to and fro, the sounds of pipes and the ship moaning, the dank air, and the smell…  
  
…the smell.  
  
“What the fuck is that?” moans Bones as he brings his arm up over his nose, his eyes tearing up.  
  
Jim sniffs the air and gags on the foul stench, his tears burning and his stomach clenching. “Jesus!” he yells, his voice echoing off the walls. He chokes back bile as he hears Bone exclaim, “What the hell died in here?” 

He searches the room until his eyes fall on a heap in a dark corner. “Tilt the light over there,” Jim asks, grateful that Bones decides to listen without giving him a lecture about how he’s a doctor, not a spotlight. 

The light shifts, wavering in protest over the movement, and the heap becomes a slow decaying body. He hears Bones cursing under his breath and choking on the foul odor.  
  
Jim can make out the ridges and rough texture of horns, like barnacles in the ocean, and tiny limbs.

There is a dark patch from smoke and blood alike on the body’s chest where a phaser set to kill struck it dead on. Jim inches closer, against his better judgment, and sees the gaudy pattern on the body’s shirt and the brown material of their apron. 

“Keenser,” Jim gasps, startled, as he hurries over the body the Roylan. He nearly vomits as the smell of Keenser’s rotting corpse assaults his nostrils.  
  
He hears Bones stepping off the transporter pad. The light that he once held swings aimlessly, illuminating what’s left of Keenser’s bloated face and nauseating Jim as he remembers the little crewmember’s penchant for climbing on top of things and irritating Scotty.  
  
This place… this entire universe and everything in… Jim hates it with every fiber of his being. 

Like a child, he wants to go home. He wants to close his eyes and when they open, he will be back in his own bed, on his own ship, with his own friends, and his own Bones. 

A hand is placed on his shoulder, warm and real. “Jim,” says Bones. “There is nothing you can do for him now.”  
  
Jim swallows and nods, feeling Bones squeezing his shoulder in comfort. “I know,” he whispers.  
  
Bones doesn’t say anything as Jim rises to his feet, wavering for a moment. The doctor’s hand is gone, back to his side, and he keeps his distance from the grieving younger man. 

Jim doesn’t look at him, afraid to see those hazel eyes staring back and fearing that they will be his undoing.

 _I want to go home_ , he thinks to himself as another thought enters his head. It’s not a thought so much as remembering that something is missing. 

“Scotty,” Jim whispers, his stomach churning. Where is Scotty? He is supposed to be here, if this universe is as close to his own as it seems to be.  _No_ , Jim thinks as his panic rises. _No. Not you too._  
  
He turns to Bones, his eyes widening in terror, unable to speak. “What is it, kid?” Bones asks in a concerned tone. “Jim?”  
  
“Jesus… Scotty…” Jim breathes as he shakes his head, taking off down the corridor. His feet are slapping against the concrete floor, skidding on puddles of slime and unnamed fluids. “Scotty!”  
  
His voice bounces off walls in time with his frantic footsteps. “Scotty!” Jim screams as he turns a corner towards the main room where he remembers finding his friend. “Scotty!”  
  
“Jim!” he hears Bones shouting from somewhere behind him. “Jim!”  
  
“Scotty!” Jim calls again as he turns around the corner, clipping his arm against the wall.

The sting of the wall cutting into his knuckles makes him hiss in pain, but it’s not enough to stop him.

Not nearly enough. 

He comes to the main room, where he was first introduced to the surly Scotsman and his Roylan assistant, and stops in the doorway, breathing heavily. Jim’s eyes search his surroundings as his blood roars in his ears. 

There is a PADD on the ground and some tools scattered nearby. A chair is overturned with a gaping hole in the middle where a phaser hit it. Monitors and equipment are broken and shattered, leaving fragments of glass, electronics, and metal all over the place. 

But no Scotty.  
  
There is no Scotty. There is no hope. He’s never going home. A laugh of despair escapes Jim’s throat. His eyes water as he falls against the doorway, looking at the scene before him.  
  
“Jesus Kid,” Bones says from behind him, huffing and puffing as he’s trying to catch his breath. “You can’t run off like that! I’m not as young as I used to be.” He leans against a wall and wipes his brow. “Goddammit, you’re fast!”  
  
Jim glances at the doctor, but says nothing.

Instead he pushes himself off the door frame and walks over to a desk, the same desk that Scotty used to sit in. Broken glass crunches under the sole of his boot and Jim swears it’s his heart breaking.

“He’s not here,” Jim tells no one in particular as he reaches out to touch the desk.  
  
“Who’s not here?” asks Bones.  
  
Jim looks around the room, remembering that he once stood in that exact spot as the elder Spock explained to Scotty that his transwarp theory was indeed correct, much to the delight of the Scotsman. “Scotty,” he says roughly. “He’s not here.”  
  
“Maybe he escaped before whoever killed that Roylan got to him,” Bones suggests as he steps into the room.  
  
Jim flushes in anger. “ _That_ Roylan had a name,” he snaps.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Bones says, sounding truly sorry.  
  
Jim clinches his fist. “Keenser. His name was Keenser.”

The pulse of rage sinks its ugly claws into him, igniting a shout from his lips and evolving to a swift movement of grabbing a monitor that ends up on the ground in pieces. He proceeds to trash the desk, his screams and curses commingling with the sounds of falling objects.

Bones, thankfully, doesn’t stop him and stands idly by until Jim’s anger passes, leaving him heaving and gasping for air.  
  
“Yeh know, laddie,” says a voice that belongs to neither Jim or the doctor, “I know that it’s broken, but I could still use it.” 

Jim’s breath hitches in his throat. He turns, slowly, and lets out a gasp. 

“Ah, laddie, yeh look like yeh’ve seen a ghost!” says the Scotsman, not his Scotsman, but it’s all the same at this point. 

Jim’s open hangs open, useless and gaping, as he stares at this universe’s Montgomery Scott. 

It’s the same man, a little older, perhaps a bit crazier. He has a scruffy goatee, rather than being clean shaven per Starfleet regulations, and sports a scar on the side of his face that is jagged and silvery against his ruddy skin. He looks jovial, even here under the dire circumstances: his eyes warm and friendly, that curious smile.  
  
“Scotty?” Jim finally says, his voice cracking.  
  
The Scotsman nods, grinning. “Haven’t been called that in a long time, laddie,” he replies. His expression softens to confusion. “Do I know yeh?” 

Jim almost nods, then almost shakes his head. He lets out a sound that may be a squeak before closing his mouth and looking to Bones for help.  
  
“Are you Montgomery Scott?” asks Bones, his eyes going from Jim to Scotty.  
  
“Aye,” Scotty answers.  
  
Bones nods. “I’m Doctor Leonard McCoy,” he says.  
  
“McCoy, eh?” Scotty echoes, as he raises a phaser in Bones’ face with that friendly grin still plastered to his lips. “With the _ISS Enterprise_ , aren’t yeh? One of ‘em Imperial bastards.”  
  
“Was,” Bones corrects, glancing at the weapon. Jim is surprised that it doesn’t seem to faze him, not even in the slightest. He supposes that Bones has Spock to thank for that. “I was.”  
  
Scotty nods, waving the phaser in the doctor’s face. “Yeh were? What changed yeh mind, laddie?” 

Bones motions to Jim with a nod of his head. 

“And yeh,” Scotty inquiries. “Who are yeh?”  
  
The phaser is on him now and Jim can’t seem to get his brain and mouth to work together. He can’t seem to think clearly as this Scotty stares him down with a phaser in his face. “His name is Jim Kirk,” he hears Bones tell Scotty.  
  
“If yeh don’t mind, I’d like for him to answer the question,” Scotty retorts, momentarily looking at the doctor with annoyance. “Who are yeh, laddie?”  
  
Jim clears his throat and gulps back the bile rising in his throat. “Jim,” he replies. “Jim Kirk.”  
  
“Kirk, eh?” Scotty says, furrowing his brow as he thinks. “James Tiberius Kirk?” 

Jim nods, swallowing. 

Scotty stares at him for a long while before reaching into his jacket pocket with his free hand and pulling out a comm. “Chekov,” he says into the unit.  
  
“Aye,” says a familiar Russian accented voice over the crackle of the speaker.  
  
Scotty studies both of the men before him for a moment before saying, “I’m bringing two live ones back with me. Maybe they can explain how the hell they managed to beam down to this fucking popsicle from a ship going at warp.”  
  
“Aye, aye!” says Chekov in a cheerful voice. “I’ll notify the keptin!”  
  
Scotty ends the communication with Chekov and sighs, dropping his phaser. “Sorry ‘bout that, boys. Yeh can never be too careful with who beams down to your fake outpost nowadays.”  
  
“Fake outpost?” asks Bones, surprised. “This was a Federation outpost, wasn’t it?”  
  
Scotty nods. “Oh aye,” he says. “It used to be before the Empire took over. We rebels use it as a decoy in case the Imperial fleet turns up around these parts.”  
  
“You mean, there have been other Imperial vessels around here?” Bones asks.  
  
“Not often, but it happens,” Scotty explains as he motions for Jim and Bones to follow him. “Usually the ships stay in the area for a few hours at most, before disappearing to another corner of the galaxy.” He begins to walk down the corridor, his voice booming off the walls. “Last one that was here was... maybe a year ago, give or take. Until today that is.”  
  
Jim looks at Bones as they follow. “The _Enterprise_ ,” he says.  
  
“Oh now, he speaks!” Scotty quips. “Glad to see that the cat let go of yeh tongue, Jimmy.” He flashes the younger man a grin. “And yes, our sensors picked up the Enterprise as well as a curious anomaly directed at this outpost.”  
  
“We beamed from the ship to here using transwarp theory,” Jim offers.  
  
“Transwarp theory, eh?” Scotty replies, impressed. “Yeh’ll have to explain it on the way to the base because I’m sure it’s fascinatin’! The shuttle is right out here and I have extra jackets inside. But hurry, don’t want yeh turning into an ice block before the captain gets to see yeh.”  
  
Jim is puzzled. “Transwarp theory,” he says, studying Scotty’s face as he starts to open the door that leads to the frozen wasteland of Delta Vega. Scotty is neutral. “Don’t you know what it is?”  
  
“Oh aye, laddie! What do yeh take me for?” he chirps as he forces the door open. “I just want to know how a lowly cadet knows about it!”

 

* * *

  
“See, that’s what I’m talking about!” Scotty exclaims as he pilots the shuttle over the surface of Delta Vega. “I had a little debate with my instructor on relativistic physics and how it pertains to subspace travel. _He_ seemed to think that the range of transporting something like a... like a grapefruit was limited to about 100 miles. I told him that I could not only beam a grapefruit from one planet to the adjacent planet in the same system - which is easy, by the way - I could do it with a life form.”

Jim is sitting next to the pilot’s seat, watching the Scotsman chatter away, his facial features animated and happy as he speaks of his favorite topic. He almost feels like he’s back where he belongs. 

“It took a bit, but I figured it out,” Scotty concludes his monologue in a cheerful tone before his smile falters and he clears his throat. “Then… well… everything went to shit. Ain’t that right, doctor?”  
  
Bones is sitting several feet away, deep in thought and huddled in the jacket that Scotty loaned him. He grunts in reply and curls tighter into himself.  
  
“Does he not like flyin’?” Scotty asks, innocently, almost making Jim laugh.  
  
Jim shakes his head. “He’s not big on it,” he replies.  
  
“An Imperial crew member doesn’t like flyin’?” Scotty mutters, baffled. “Did he know that they operate in space?”

He turns to Jim, who nods.

Scotty shakes his head in disbelief. “Doesn’t make bloody sense...”  
  
Jim chuckles softly, much to Bones’ annoyance given the grunt he receives. “I’m sorry about Keenser,” he says, apologetically.  
  
“Sorry about Keenser?” asks Scotty in a perplexed tone before realizing who and what Jim is speaking about. He shrugs, nonchalantly, and says, “If I hadn’t shot him first, he certainly would have beat me to the punch. And I cannae allow myself to be taken down by a Roylan! Do you know how embarassin’ the afterlife would be, laddie?”  
  
Jim is shocked into silence, his mouth hanging open and his mind at warp, trying to figure out if he truly heard Scotty correctly.  
  
“What?” Scotty replies. “Why do yeh look so surprised? And how did yeh know ‘em?”  
  
Jim falls back into the seat, stunned.  
  
“Is he alright?” Scotty calls to Bones.  
  
“He’s had a long day,” Bones replies from the back.  
  
That answer doesn’t seem to appease the Scotsman, who in turn gives Jim a sidelong look. “Yeh look like yeh may lose your lunch,” he finally says.  
  
“I’m fine,” Jim quickly replies.  
  
Scotty frowns. “Yeh better be. I just cleaned this shuttle and I don’t want to have to do it again!” 

They arrive at the rebel base which is concealed by pillars of ice-covered rocks and mountains. Scotty flies them through a tunnel that seems endless until Jim sees a blue tinged light at the end. It gives way to a base that is deceptively sprawling and buzzing with activity. The base includes a massive hangar, and a series of buildings connected by walkways covered in some clear materials, all occupied by an enormous number of people.

As the shuttle approaches the hangar, he can see people in the walkways, on the hangar floor, moving around the equipment, ships and storage lockers off to the side.  
  
God, there are so many people here.  
  
Jim is sure that Bones is marveling at the number of people inside this base, but doesn’t bother to look back to see the doctor’s reaction for fear of getting his head ripped off. 

The landing is a bit bumpy (“Haven’t mastered that yet,” Scotty apologizes wholeheartedly to which Bones shouts, “Then why the fuck are you flying the goddamn shuttle!”), but they arrive in one piece.

Bones is still tearing a new one into Scotty as they disembark the shuttle. They are greeted with by Chekov, bundled in a jacket that seems to swallow his slight frame whole, but with a shaved head popping out of the folds.  
  
“Yo moyo!” Chekov exclaims, his eyes wide. “You weren’t kidding!”  
  
Scotty scoffs at the kid’s comment and rolls his eyes in a dramatic fashion. “Yeh underestimate me, laddie! Dr. Leonard McCoy, Jim Kirk - this is Chekov.”  
  
“Chekov, Pavel Andreievich,” Chekov says automatically, extending his hand to Jim and Bones with a bright smile. He sees Bones’ uniform peeking out from under his jacket and frowns, turning to Scotty.  
  
“It’s fine, laddie,” Scotty says quickly. He slaps Bones on the back with a grin. “This one is lookin’ to join the dark side, I reckon!”  
  
Jim watches as Bones grunts an incoherent reply and shakes the Scotsman’s hand from his back.  
  
“Ver you the one who beamed down to the outpost?” Chekov asks Bones.  
  
Bones shakes his head and points to Jim. “I’m a doctor, not an engineer,” he mutters.  
  
“Zat was you!” Chekov says to Jim, his smile growing wider. “Zat was amazing, Mr. Kirk! I thought zat only Scotty could do zat, but then you...yo moyo!” He slaps his hand to his forehead in amazement as Scotty clears his throat, catching his attention. “Oh. Yes. The keptin will be seeing you now. This way.”  
  
They follow Chekov through the hangar and into one of the walkways, which are mercifully heated. Jim feels his fingers thawing out as they walk when he hears Bones ask, “Wait a minute, kid. How old are you?”  
  
“Seventeen, sir,” Chekov replies, not catching the harsh tone in Bones’ words.  
  
Bones leans close to Jim, whispering, “Oh… oh, good. He’s seventeen.”  
  
Jim presses his lips together, suppressing laughter as they walk.  
  
“Don’t let his age fool yeh, doctor,” Scotty says over his shoulder. “Chekov is one of our best navigators and engineers.”  
  
Bones snorts. “Wonderful,” he mutters. “Who’s in charge around here? A sixteen year old prom queen?”  
  
“Zat would be the keptin!” Chekov says, turning around to walk backwards. “He’s no longer a keptin… not now, but we call him zat out of respect. He’s a great man, yes!”  
  
Jim watches as Chekov turns back around, practically skipping down the walkway as they enter one of the buildings. “Who is the captain, Chekov?”  
  
“I am,” says that voice. Jim’s breath hitches in his throat and his chest constricts. He looks ahead of them and sees him standing in between two other rebels.

His salt and pepper hair is longer and he sports a matching beard, which offsets the icy blue of his eyes. There is a scar over one eye that makes his lid droop and a portion of his earlobe is missing, but it’s still _him_.  
  
“Holy shit,” Bones says in awe. “Captain Pike…”  
  
Pike looks at Bones, his eyes twinkling in acknowledgement. “Dr. McCoy,” he replies. “Good to see you again.” 

They make their pleasantries as Jim stands there, overwhelmed. All he can think is _you’re alive, you’re alive, you’re alive_ as he tries to reconcile the image of his friend and mentor laying dead in Starfleet Headquarters, shot to death by a mad man with this living being facing him.  
  
_“Do you know what a pain you are?” he asks, his eyes blazing in a fury. “You think the rules don't apply to you. There's greatness in you, but there's not an ounce of humility. You think that you can't make mistakes, but there's going to come a moment when you realize you're wrong about that, and you're going to get yourself and everyone under your command killed.”_  
  
Jim chokes on his own ragged breath, catching this Pike’s attention. _God, you were right,_ he thinks. _You were so right._  
  
“Cadet,” Pike says as he steps away from Bones, Jim not bothering to correct him. “It’s been a while.”  
  
Jim nods dumbly and takes a tentative step forward, waiting for Pike’s reaction. The man, despite his air of authority, looks at him warmly with parental affection…  
  
…just like _his_ Pike would have done. And always did, even when he probably wanted to throttle Jim within an inch of his life. Even though Pike never said so, Jim knew deep down in his marrow that the man loved him like a son.  
  
Jim takes another step, then another before he throws his arms around Pike, sobbing into the man’s shoulder. Hot tears course down his cheeks and onto the material of Pike’s clothing. He is trembling when Pike returns the hug, pulling him close and rubbing a hand in slow and steady circles between Jim’s shoulders. 

“You were right,” Jim whispers into Pike’s shoulder. “I’m an idiot and you were right. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have listened to you.”  
  
He knows that Pike has no idea what’s he’s talking about and expects the man to ask Jim what he means. Instead, Pike surprises him and says, “If anyone deserves a second chance, it’s you.” 

Jim closes his eyes, choking back a whimper, and pulls Pike closer to him. He’s gasping for air and choking out apologies to a ghost when Pike pulls away and looks him in the eye. There is still kindness in those eyes and Jim feels like he’s losing Pike all over again when the older man tells him, “It’s gonna be all right, son.”  
  
Jim only nods as more tears slip down his cheeks, not bothering to brush them away.

Pike makes that face reserved for when he is about to give Jim some advice, except the advice doesn’t come. “Gentleman, if you’d excuse us,” Pike tells the three other men. “…Jim and I have a lot to discuss.”

Jim allows Pike to lead him away with the elder man’s hand clasped over his shoulder, but before casting a forlorn glance in Bones’ direction.


	7. Chapter 7

Pike hands him a replicated Corona Classic with a comforting smile before the older man sits down in the chair across from Jim. “So,” he says after taking a sip from his own beverage, “it seems I’m dead in your reality.” 

Jim nearly chokes on the inhale in his lungs and coughs, sputtering out incoherent words and feeling his cheeks burn. 

“Nero,” Pike tells him, answering Jim’s unspoken question. “While I was on the Narada, before the _Endeavor_ rescued me, Nero told me all about alternative realities. The variances, the smallest differences to the largest and you, Jim Kirk, are an example of that.”  
  
Jim nods, gathering his voice and asks, “How did you know that I wasn’t your Jim Kirk?”  
  
“The sideburns,” Pike deadpans with a smile twisting his lips. “The sideburns were a dead giveaway.”  
  
Jim chuckles. “I knew it had to be that,” he replies, much to Pike’s amusement.  
  
Pike turns serious and gives Jim a once over, much like he did in that Podunk bar back in Iowa. “Did McCoy tell you about his relationship with our Jim?” Pike wonders. He leans back in his seat and sees Jim shaking his head. “I’m surprised.”  
  
“I didn’t want him to,” Jim admits. “My Bones and I... we aren’t like that.”  
  
Pike gets that contemplative look on his face that Jim remembers so well. “This Jim was a reckless son of a bitch with a lot of potential. He was the only genius level repeat offender in the Midwest and was wasting it on alcohol, motorcycles, and bar fights.”  
  
Jim snorts, not being able to help himself. “Sorry,” he apologizes. “It sounds familiar.”  
  
Pike just smiles enigmatically. “Then you probably know that he met McCoy on the shuttle from Riverside,” he says. “Those two… I guess what I want to say is that they were made for each other. I’m not a romantic sort of guy and I’m sure that your Christopher Pike was similar, but Jim and McCoy were very in synch. One moved, the other moved. It was something to watch, believe me. Jim Kirk had the attention span of a jack rabbit and when he fell in love with Leonard McCoy… a lot of people were disappointed.”  
  
Jim swears that Pike winks at him, that secretive wink when Pike doesn’t want to state the obvious. Whenever his friend did that, Jim would roll his eyes and say some smart ass remark. 

But now… it's just comforting to see that some things weren’t so different in this place.  
  
“Jim was well on his way to becoming a great man and I think a lot of it had to do with McCoy,” Pike continues, pausing to drink some of his beer. He smacks his lips together and studies the bottle in his hand. “I miss the real stuff. It tasted less like piss water.” 

Jim’s lips twitch into a brief smile. 

“I know that Captain Spock murdered him,” Pike sighs. “I was on the _Endeavor_ when we received the news and I remember thinking that it was my fault. If I hadn’t promoted Jim over that fucking lunatic... he might still be alive. Hell, Earth could still be here and… well… a lot of things would have been different.”  
  
Jim leans forward. “You _promoted_ your Jim over Spock? Why?”  
  
“He managed to beat the Kobayashi Maru, an examination that Spock developed to be a no-win scenario,” Pike explains. “I would have been an idiot not to promote him, aside from his stellar academic record and other merits. Spock didn’t like it… even tried to say that Jim cheated, but there was no evidence to prove it.”  
  
“Do you think he did?”  
  
Pike shakes his head. “No,” he replies, shaking his head again. “Jim was a Grade-A pain in my ass, but he was a good kid. I was the closest thing to a parent he ever had and he would have wanted to die before ever disappointing me.”  
  
“What about our mother?” asks Jim, curious about his counterpart’s background.  
  
Pike arches a brow and frowns. “She died during childbirth,” he states before allowing his mind to wonder for a moment. “Poor kid loses both of his parents within minutes of being born and is handed off from relative to relative. I tried adopting him, you know. The courts said I wasn’t an ideal candidate, being a young man out in the black. It wasn’t the place to raise a child, but it would have been a whole lot better than what Jim ended up with. The only comfort I get is that perhaps in another reality, I got to raise him and he is still alive somewhere. And he’s happy.” 

Jim doesn’t say anything because he is speechless. A rare and strange thing that his Pike had joked about hours before his death. 

“After we heard about Jim, the crew of the _Endeavor_ defected and we destroyed the ship, using the Narada to escape to Delta Vega.”  
  
“The Narada?” Jim says, surprised. “The Narada wasn’t destroyed?”  
  
“Nope,” Pike replies. “It is currently sitting behind Titan, just a transporter beam away if we should ever need to use it.” He smiles at Jim’s baffled expression and leans forward. “That’s also how I knew that you weren’t my Jim. He was a smart kid, but had no idea about transwarp theory, let alone how to use it.”  
  
Jim grins sheepishly. “I learned that from a friend.”  
  
“I bet you did,” Pike chuckles. “I’m glad that you haven’t changed. Well, not too much.” 

Jim laughs at Pike’s words before bursting into tears. As he’s crying over his replicated beer, he hears Pike move from his seat and the pressure of the man’s hand on his shoulder. 

“Drink up, son,” Pike declares as he squeezes Jim’s shoulder. “Beer stops the tears from coming.”  
  
He only cries harder.

 

* * *

  
McCoy is sitting on the bottom bunk when he hears someone entering in a passcode into the outside door panel. The door slides open and he sees Jim, followed by Pike coming into the quarters that Chekov had found for them.  McCoy immediately jumps to his feet, out of habit, and is about to salute Pike when the elder man shakes his head and motions him to relax.  
  
“We don’t salute here,” Pike tells him as he guides Jim over to the lower bunk. He grabs Jim by the elbow as the younger man sways on his feet. “Perhaps the whiskey was a bad idea.”  
  
“Whiskey is _never_ a bad idea,” Jim slurs gruffly. He grabs McCoy’s forearm, his fingers digging into the material of McCoy’s shirt, and looks at McCoy, puffy eyed and flushed. “I had a rough day,” he drunkenly offers before face planting into the mattress of the bed.  
  
McCoy doesn’t say a word and instead helps Jim take off his boots and the loaner jacket. Jim grumbles and curses, but doesn’t offer much assistance in actually helping McCoy getting him ready for bed. 

 _Just like old times_ , McCoy thinks to himself as Pike swoops in to help. “So you decided drinking would be a good idea?” McCoy grumbles. “Alcohol is a _depressant_ , kid.”  
  
“Shut up,” Jim hisses into the mattress as he bats away Pike’s hands that are trying to turn him over. “I’m seeing ghosts, Bones.” 

McCoy raises a brow and looks to Pike, who doesn’t give away much. The pieces fall into place and the doctor realizes that the younger man is referring to Pike - his Pike, at least. He vaguely recalls the sadness in Jim’s eyes when he told McCoy about how Pike had been rescued from the Narada and Earth was saved.  
  
_You saved him once, but you couldn’t save him twice,_ McCoy muses as he yanks a boot off Jim’s foot, tossing it into the corner. “Getting drunk won’t make the ghosts go away, Jim,” McCoy tells him.  
  
“You’re right,” Jim replies as he turns his head to look at McCoy and Pike. “The ghosts are still here.”  
  
McCoy glowers at Pike and goes to undo the laces on Jim’s other boot. He hears Pike speaking to Jim in a hushed voice, low and soothing. “Ghosts aren’t always a bad thing, son.”  
  
“My ghosts are,” Jim replies morosely.  
  
“You just need to rest,” Pike assures him. “You’ve had a long day - you _and_ Dr. McCoy. It’s not every day someone escapes an Imperial ship and beams down onto an ice planet.”  
  
McCoy hears Jim snort and his slurred speech that follows, “Says _you_. Except I did it in reverse... beamed from an ice planet to a Federation ship going at warp. Scotty was there. He can tell you.”  
  
“Impressive,” McCoy says, oozing sarcasm.  
  
Jim looks at him with those blue eyes and smirks. “Always,” he wisecracks before dropping his head onto the pillow. “I want to go home.”  
  
“We’ll get you home, son,” Pike says in complete sincerity, patting Jim’s back.  
  
Jim is quiet and when McCoy looks up, he sees that the younger man’s eyes are closed, his dark lashes brushing against his pale skin. He doesn’t move when McCoy slips the boot off his other foot, nor when they maneuver him under the blankets. 

McCoy and Pike stand over Jim, watching him sleep off his latest bender whilst looking like a little boy.

The doctor is still seething with anger over Pike allowing Jim to get drunk. Then he remembers that look Jim gave him as Pike lead the young man away and realizes it was probably the same expression he had himself when he first laid eyes on this Jim.  
  
“Did someone show you where the mess hall is?” Pike asks in a low voice. McCoy shakes his head and sees Pike nodding. “Come with me. I’ll show you and we can catch up while we eat.”  
  
As they make their way to leave, McCoy hears Jim grumble in a low voice, “I know where the body is.”

McCoy freezes at the younger man’s words, unsure of what Jim is talking about.  
  
“What son?” inquires Pike, his voice uncertain.  
  
Jim rolls over and looks at them with red-rimmed, tired eyes. “Jim’s body,” he says. “I know where it is. I can take you to it.”  
  
McCoy feels sick to his stomach and chokes back the bitter taste of bile as it rises in his throat. “Okay,” he hears Pike tell Jim. “You can take us in the morning, son.”

 

* * *

  
Morning comes and by some miracle, Jim isn’t hung over. McCoy finds him sitting up on the lower bunk when he comes out of the head, freshly showered and wearing clothing that better suits the climate of Delta Vega.  

“Morning,” McCoy tells him as he towels off his hair. “Sleep alright?” 

That earns a crystalline blue scowl and an incoherent grumble. Jim yawns while scratching his stomach before making an attempt to get off the bed. He gives McCoy a once over, his brow arching in curiosity about the doctor’s clothing.  
  
“Pike thought we’d prefer something that wasn’t an Imperial uniform,” McCoy explains, gesturing towards a pile of neatly folded clothing on a table in the room.  
  
Jim nods, staying silent as he goes to the head with the clothing in hand. “I’ll be out in a minute,” he mutters as he disappears inside.

A moment later, the shower is running and McCoy leaves Jim to it. McCoy sits down on the lower bunk and waits. True to form, Jim is showered and dressed in less than ten minutes. When he emerges from the head, he is flushed from the hot water and wearing the clothing provided to him. 

For a second McCoy is reminded of the punk ass kid on the shuttle, sauntering into the craft with a blood stained shirt and that leather jacket. Except this Jim isn’t sauntering, nor does he have a cocky grin on his face.  
  
“Do you know where a guy can get a meal around here?” Jim asks as he retrieves his boots and sits down on the bed next to McCoy.  
  
McCoy nods. “Yeah,” he replies, averting his eyes and staring at his hands. After a few uncomfortable minutes, he clears his throat and says, “Pike is preparing a search and recovery shuttle.”  
  
“Oh?” Jim says neutrally.  
  
McCoy glances at him, watching the younger man as he ties up his boots. “He wants you to direct him to where...” his voice trails off and he swallows back the lump forming in his throat. He looks away when Jim’s eyes turn to him, biting his lower lip. He composes himself and gets off the bed, not looking at the younger man. “You ready?”  
  
Jim doesn’t nod, but gets off the bed. They grab their jackets and leave the small room, McCoy leading the way to the mess hall. The tension is palpable and both men are afraid to say a word.  
  
_Besides_ , McCoy thinks to himself, _what good would words do?_  
  
McCoy can see Jim taking in his surroundings with those blue eyes as they walk alongside each other. The base is impressive with how self-sufficient is it, thanks in part to the mad Scotsman who has a flare for bigger, faster, stronger engineering. 

Scotty had told McCoy the evening before that the rebels had allies that included the Klingons, various Vulcan clans, and refugees from Risa. The Scotsman was sure that there were more, but Pike kept mum about that type of information (and probably with good reason).  
  
As they are sitting down with their trays, McCoy breaks the uncomfortable silence. “That must have been overwhelming to see Captain Pike,” he says, earning a shrug from Jim.  
  
“That’s an understatement,” Jim replies as he spears his meal with the fork in his hand.  
  
McCoy presses his lips together before saying, “I can understand that.” He sees Jim look at him with a dark expression marring his features.  
  
“I know,” Jim tells him as his expression softens, making him look lost. He hunches over, staring at his plate of food.  
  
“What is it, kid?” McCoy asks between forced bites.  
  
Jim opens his mouth to speak, then shuts it and shakes his head. “Nothing.”  
  
“Doesn’t look like nothing,” McCoy observes. He tilts his head, studying the younger man, and lets out a sigh. “Something’s bothering you.”  
  
“You’re pushing again,” Jim growls.  
  
“I’m not pushing.”  
  
“You _are_.”  
  
McCoy rolls his eyes. “You’ve seen me push, kid, and believe me when I say that this _isn’t_ pushing.” 

Jim’s cheeks color, clearly understanding what the doctor is referring to, and he averts his eyes as he angrily shoves his breakfast into his mouth. McCoy would normally chuckle at the familiar display, but this Jim is teetering on the edge of an emotional meltdown.

Instead, he opts to eat his meal in silence and not say another word to Jim until the kid decides that he’s ready to talk. They are leaving the mess hall when Chekov runs up to them, excitedly chattering away in Russian. “Hold up, kid,” McCoy tells him. “In English.”  
  
“Yo moyo! My apologies about zat,” Chekov says brightly. “Keptin Pike says zat the shuttle is ready for departure.”  
  
McCoy pales and turns to Jim, who is looking back at him nervously. The younger man, gathers his strength, and steps forward. “Lead the way,” Jim tells Chekov as he pulls his jacket on over his clothing.  
  
Chekov nods, turning to McCoy. “Are you coming with us, doktor?”  
  
Jim is about to protest when McCoy nods his head. “Are you sure?” Jim asks, blinking in surprise.  
  
McCoy doesn’t say a word and follows Chekov who is already hurrying away from them, chattering away in Russian once more. McCoy pulls on his jacket, feeling the insulating down insides instantly warm him up as he swears his blood has turned to ice. 

Jim, mercifully, doesn’t try to question him as they make their way to shuttle bay. He can feel those eyes burning into him when he isn’t looking, silently asking him if he’s sure he wants to do this.  
  
If he’s sure he wants to see…  
  
…his Jim.  
  
Pike looks surprised to see McCoy approaching the shuttle with Jim, but does not deter him. Pike knew what their Jim meant to the doctor and if this means closure for him, then so be it. “Jim, give Scott the coordinates and take a seat next to McCoy,” Pike orders as he moves aside for the two men to enter the shuttle. 

Jim nods and goes up to the front of the shuttle where Scotty is sitting. They converse in low voices as McCoy takes a seat and buckles himself in. McCoy doesn’t know what he feels. His heart is still beating at a normal rate, but the blood in his ears is roaring and pulsing.  
  
He remembers the last conversation he had with his Jim, over the latter’s concerns about the commander.  
  
_“You’re overreacting kid,” he tells Jim, who is pacing Pike’s ready room and chewing on his thumbnail. “I know that shit is hitting the fan, but I think you ought to worry about the Romulans rather than some pointed-ear freak.”_  
  
_“Says you,” Jim replies as he stops pacing and leans over the long table. He pinches his lips together and shakes his head. “Bones…I don’t know. Something about that guy…I can’t put my finger on it.”_  
  
_McCoy comes up behind Jim, wrapping his arms around the younger man’s waist, pulling him to his chest. “Don’t worry about him,” McCoy whispers into his ear, making sure that his lips brush against Jim’s sensitive lobe. “Just save the galaxy and when we get back home, fuck my brains out.”_  
  
_“You always say the sweetest things,” Jim snorts, leaning back into McCoy’s embrace._  
  
_McCoy nods in agreement as he nuzzles Jim’s neck, nibbling at his skin. “Damn right, pretty boy.”_  
  
_“I love you, Bones,” Jim says with a fierceness that McCoy has never heard before. “You know I love you, right?”_  
  
_McCoy turns him around, puzzled. “Of course, I do,” he replies. “And I love you.”_  
  
_Jim pulls him into a sudden kiss, their lips and tongues pressing together in an intimate dance that makes McCoy’s knees weak. When they part, both of them short of breath and dizzy, Jim whispers, “I just wanted to make sure that you knew.”_  
  
Jim finally enters the seating area of the shuttle, sitting down next to him, bringing McCoy back to the present. They exchange a glance as Jim buckles himself into the seat and leans back. The shuttle lifts off the ground a few minutes later, flying back out the tunnel through which McCoy and Jim entered with Scotty. 

McCoy can hear the Scotsman and Chekov up front, prattling on about god knows what.

Pike is sitting across from him, speaking in a low voice to one of the other rebels, a pretty blonde who is maybe a year or two younger than Jim. She is holding a PADD in her hand, showing the screen to Pike as she converses with him.  
  
Pike sees McCoy staring at him and offers him a tight smile, which McCoy forces himself to return before looking away. He closes his eyes and presses his head against the seat, trying to forget where they are heading.  
  
“Another five minutes, keptin,” Chekov says.  
  
McCoy’s breath catches in his throat, making a pitiful sound. He feels someone’s hand on his, lacing their fingers together and squeezing him.  
  
“Hey,” Jim whispers into his ear. “It’s going to be okay.”  
  
McCoy squeezes his eyes and shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have come,” he whispers back. “I can’t do this.”  
  
“You _can_ ,” Jim says back to him. “I’ll be right here.”  
  
McCoy opens his eyes, tears blurring his vision. “But you’re not _my_ Jim.”  
  
Jim is about to say something else when Scotty interrupts them. “Captain, our sensors are picking up an object in a ravine directly below us,” Scotsman tells Pike. “It looks like an escape pod.”  
  
Pike’s face pales and he nods. “Can we pull it out?”  
  
“Aye,” Scotty replies as he begins to flip a few buttons on the control panel. “Give me just a sec.”  
  
“Chekov,” says Pike, “contact the base and have them send out another shuttle to our location.”  
  
Chekov nods, no longer smiling. McCoy can hear him on the comm, speaking to some nameless rebel back at the base. The shuttle suddenly lurches and McCoy squeezes Jim’s hand.  
  
“Sorry ‘bout that,” Scotty apologies, his voice booming through the shuttle. “Wee bit rickety when the claws go down at first!”  
  
McCoy uses every fiber of his being to keep from screaming at Scotty to shut the hell up (or launching himself across the shuttle to punch him in the head). “Wee bit rickety, my ass,” he growls under his breath as the shuttle gains altitude. He can hear the sounds of metal moving and whining from the subzero temperatures of Delta Vega.

There is a crash outside (“Just some ice!” Scotty hollers), followed by the sound of ice falling and breaking apart as the shuttle pulls the pod out of its confines.  
  
“Keptin,” Chekov says, turning around in his seat. “The other shuttle is approaching. Shall I tell them to land?”  
  
Pike nods. “Let them know that we need enough clearance for the pod. I don’t want to carry this thing back to the base.”  
  
“Aye, aye!” Chekov replies, spinning around in his seat to speak with the other shuttle.  
  
McCoy swallows unevenly and closes his eyes again, praying that by some miracle the pod is empty.

 

* * *

  
Jim follows Pike out of the shuttle, tentatively stepping on the icy terrain of the planet. Thankfully, his boots have a good enough grip to keep him from slipping and he walks behind the older man with ease, despite his heart wildly pounding in his chest.  

The pod is resting in the snow, stark black against pure white. The glass is foggy with left over condensation from several years’ worth of ice, jostled free by the sudden movements from the shuttle. Jim watches as the crew members from both shuttles stop along the perimeter of the pod, staring at it in awe and horror.

Pike looks stricken because he knows what’s inside. And Bones…  
  
…Jim aches for him when he glances in his direction to see the pale faced man. His eyes are dark and brimming with unshed tears that threaten to fall down his suddenly hollowed cheeks. Bones knows what torments lie inside and what they foretell. 

Every dream the doctor has had in which his Jim is miraculously alive will be shattered and he will have to face the horrible reality that his Jim – his lover – is truly dead.  
  
Jim pushes himself forward and climbs on top of the pod, feeling the bitter cold metal stinging his fingers. The outside control panel is easy to locate, though the keys stick from the ice embedded inside. “Scotty,” Jim calls over his shoulder. “I need some help.”

Just chance, he glances through the glass of the pod and sees a figure through the foggy surface. He swallows and shakes his head as the Scotsman eagerly rushes over to him, mounting the pod and sitting alongside him. “What can yeh for?”  
  
“The keypad is stuck,” Jim says.  
  
“Oh aye,” Scotty replies. “Give me just a tick!” He rushes back to the shuttle and appears not even a minute later with a phaser in his hand. “It’s not ideal, but what yeh gonna do? Stand back now.”  
  
Jim slides off the pod and watches Scotty fire at the keypad once, then twice. The glass flies open, startling the Scotsman, who falls back onto the snow, swearing and groaning pain. Jim rushes over to Scotty, helping him to his feet. “You okay?”  
  
“Bloody pod!” Scotty curses, shaking the phaser at the object as he charges back over to it. He grunts as he climbs up the metal and lets out a surprised shout.  
  
Jim is right behind him, his stomach roiling in horror as the cockpit comes into view. “Oh god,” he whispers, his gaze turning to Scotty, who is as white as ghost.  
  
He’s looking at himself, a younger version of himself before time changed him and experience made him less baby faced than he used to be. The same dirty blond hair that is a deliberate mess, the scar that is embedded into his chin, the curve of his nose, and the shape of his parted lips. 

Jim is looking into a mirror, like one of the fairytales that his mother (when she was home) used to tell him. It’s like this man is Snow White and he’s the prince who’s come to wake him from the deep sleep of death. 

Except the vivid bruises that line his counterpart’s neck and the angle in which his head lays tells Jim that nothing will wake this young man up. He’s dead and gone, perfectly preserved in a grave of ice and cold.  
  
“No,” he hears someone say from behind him. “No. Please no!”

Jim looks up and sees Bones on the other side of the pod, trembling and shaking his head. “Bones,” he begins to say.  
  
“Jim… no,” Bones cries to the man in the pod. “Jim… please no. Please.” He is scrambling inside of the pod, grabbing the limp corpse and recoiling at the first touch. “No, no no…  _Jim_.” Bones pulls the other Jim to him, cradling his body against his chest as he buries his face in the younger man’s hair, sobbing and pleading. “Why Jim! Why?”

Others are rushing the pod and someone is pulling him back.

Jim breaks their grip and calls to Bones who doesn’t seem to hear him over his agonized wailing. He can see the tears spilling over the doctor’s cheeks and disappearing into his Jim’s hair. 

The person is pulling at him again and not letting go, dragging Jim off the pod and onto the snow.  
  
“Get him back to the base now,” Pike’s voice booms, startling Jim into realizing that the captain had his hand wrapped around his bicep. “You take him back to the base and take him to my quarters. Don’t leave him alone, do you understand me? You stay with him until I get back.”  
  
Scotty nods. “Aye Captain,” he says, clearly shaken.  
  
Pike hands Jim’s arm off to Scotty and turns to him, his eyes blazing. “Don’t argue,” he tells Jim. “You don’t need to be here and I know that your Pike wouldn’t want you to see this.”  
  
“But-” Jim starts.  
  
Pike shakes his head. “You don’t need to see this,” he interrupts. “Scott, Chekov, get him out of here.”  
  
Scotty is guiding Jim towards the shuttle they arrived in with Chekov trailing behind them. Jim turns his head, watching the commotion unfolding into chaos as someone tries to pry the other Jim Kirk’s corpse out of Bones’ steadfast grip.  
  
“Don’t touch him! Don’t you fucking touch him!” he hears Bones shrieking through heartbroken sobs. “Jim, baby, please open your eyes. Please!”  
  
He’s back in the shuttle and strapped into his seat, hearing Bones’ screams being cut off by the closing shuttle door. Jim swallows back the sob in his throat as the shuttle lifts off the ground and closes his eyes, trying to steady his rapid breathing. The shuttle is flying over the icy tundra, putting distance between Jim and the other Bones, whose image of cradling his Jim in his arms is forever burned into Jim’s mind.  
  
_I never want to fall in love._  
  
_Are you sure, Jimmy?_  
  
_Yes. Never._


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **AUTHOR'S WARNING:** The following content contains graphic violence.

He's wrapped in a thick fog. Time ebbs and flows, though he's not sure if it's been minutes or hours since he was forced back into the shuttle and strapped down in his seat. All he knows is that there's a voice in his head stating the obvious, low and grumbling.

_You're in shock, Jimmy._

He is staring numbly at the empty row of seats across from him, his movements slow and his body held down by the fog and harness around his torso. His limbs are heavy and…

_Dead._

Except he's not the Jim Kirk who is dead.

He's still alive while a corpse who looks just like him is still being cradled by a man who is mad with grief, his agonized screams piercing through the air. He doesn't hear Scotty or Chekov speaking as they transport him back to the base.

Through the thickness clouding his mind, Jim figured that they are still reeling from what they saw. How could they not? Seeing a corpse is one thing and Jim is sure that these two are used to it, given the current state of their universe. 

But… what they saw, what they all saw - it didn't make sense and it probably never would, even if Jim tries to explain it to them. 

Maybe when his nerves aren't shot to shit, he'll explain it to them. For now, Jim wants to remain lost in the fog and numbness it provides so he doesn't have to think anymore.

"Jim," he hears someone say to him through the fog. A hand is shaking his shoulder. "Jim." 

There is a sharp pain that radiates from his cheek. Jim blinks sluggishly, the fog receding and dissolving into Chekov's boyish features. It's not his Chekov, not by a long shot even though they have the same naive smile and brightness to their dark eyes. 

"Jim," says the boy. "I bring this to you." He is holding up a flask made of leather and metal, beaten with use, and shoves it into Jim's hand. "It's vodka. Like the Russians used to make it."

"Oh aye, laddie," Scotty calls from the front of the shuttle. "It may pack a punch, but it's not like my scotch!"

Chekov turns towards the Scotsman with a frown. "Scotch? It was invented by a little old lady from Leningrad," he says with absolute certainty before turning back to Jim. "It's true. My grandpapa told me." 

Jim stares mutely at Chekov, holding the flask in his hand and watching the boy frown again before reaching for the object. Chekov mutters in Russian as he uncaps the flask and pushes it to Jim's lips. "Here," he says as he tilts the flask. "Down ze hatch!" 

The liquor burns Jim's mouth and throat as he chokes it down, making his nerves sing with alertness. The fog is gone and he is left with the stark reality of his situation.

"Atta boy, laddie," Scotty says. "See, I told yeh it would snap him out of it!"

Chekov nods in agreement as Jim pushes the flask away from his mouth, sputtering and coughing. "Da, you were right!"

Jim heaves out another cough, wincing as it stings his chest. "That tasted like lighter fluid," he rasps.

"All good vodka tastes like zat," Chekov replies dismissively as he brings the flask to his lips, taking a long gulp out of it. When he's done, he holds it out to Jim, who shakes his head. "At least you are... what's zat phrase... back in action?"

"Something that like," Jim replies.

"Well it's better than bein' practically comatose as yeh were!" Scotty retorts, briefly craning his head to look at Jim. "Yeh had me worried. Chekov too!"

Chekov rolls his eyes. "I wasn't zat worried," he whispers to Jim, patting him on the knee. "Was zat boy, was he your _brat_?"

"My _what_?" Jim asks, confused.

Chekov clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth, piercing his chapped lips together as he searches for the word. "Your… sibling?"

"You mean my brother?" Jim inquires and watches Chekov nod happily.

"Da! Your brother. Was he your brother?" Chekov says excitedly.

Jim shakes his head. "No," he replies. "No he wasn't my brother."

"But he looked just like you…" Chekov tells Jim, his voice trailing off in confusion. "Are you sure? Maybe you didn't know zat you had a brother…"

"Okay laddie," Scotty says, "enough with pepperin' him with questions. Come back up here and navigate."

Chekov sighs dramatically and trudges back to his seat, slumping down like an angst-ridden teenager. "You are no fun," he grumbles.

"I am plenty fun," Scotty tells him as a sensor beeps.

Jim sees Scotty's brow arching up to the edges of his beanie. "What?" Jim asks as he unbuckles himself and stumbles over to the pilot's seat. "What is it?"

"Something…" Scotty begins to say. "Something's triggered a sensor at the outpost." Without a word, he reaches for the comm unit on the control panel and says, "Oy, Stadi!"

"Yes Monty?" replies the voice of a woman.

"Did yeh send anyone out to the outpost?" asks Scotty.

There is silence for a moment, followed by a beeping on the other end. "No," Stadi says with a hard edge to her voice. "Maybe the other shuttle made a pit stop?"

"That's not it. The other shuttle is back at the recovery site," Scotty replies.

"I'm sending a security team out to the outpost," Stadi declares. "It's probably nothing. Just an animal or a door blown open."

Scotty is frowning. "I'll meet them there," he says.

"But Keptin Pike said to take Jim back to ze base!" Chekov protests.

Scotty turns to Chekov with an uncharacteristic glare. "And _I_ say we rendezvous with the security team." He turns to Jim. "Yeh've got that phaser with yeh?" 

Jim shakes his head, having left the weapon back at the base. He hears Scotty scoffing at him and watches the Scotsman wave towards the back of the shuttle. 

"There's an extra one back there. I hope yeh know how to use it," Scotty grumbles as he accelerates the shuttle. 

They arrive before the security team, circling around the abandoned outpost from the air when Chekov spots an Imperial shuttle on the ground, already blanketed in snow. 

"Shit," Scotty curses as he comms Stadi again, apprising her of the situation.

Jim leans over, staring out the window of the shuttle, and feels his stomach drop. Of course Spock would find a way around the damaged transporter unit because he is Spock. He is logical, methodical, and ruthless. 

And he wants Jim dead.

Jim hears an explosion from below and peers out the window, seeing the Imperial shuttle in flames. He looks at Scotty, who only shrugs.

"Cannae let 'em escape now can we?" Scotty chirps as he goes to land the shuttle.

In distance, Jim hears the other rebel shuttle approaching the outpost as the shuttle door opens. A blast of cold air and snow hits the men, momentarily robbing them of their breath. Scotty steps out first and fires his phaser. "Take that yeh lousy piece of shit Imperial bastard!"

Jim and Chekov glance at each other before they run out of the shuttle to cover Scotty, who has turned into a madman. The Scotsman has taken down two _Enterprise_ crew members that Jim recognizes from another lifetime ago, their blood spattered on the pure white snow. The security team is spilling out of the other shuttle as soon as it lands, heading for the entrance to the outpost as Scotty shouts, "Cannae let 'em get to the transporter!"

They race through the facility, their footsteps pounding against the floor. Jim watches as a woman with midnight black hair crosses over an intersection of corridors only to be gunned by a phaser blast to her back. Chekov fires back, hitting the assailant instantly. 

Jim rushes over to the woman as she writhes on the ground. Her mouth is open, gasping as her lower body begins to dissolve in front of Jim's eyes, leaving blood and ash in its wake. Jim feels his stomach roiling as she disappears, her blue eyes staring, helplessly, at him in her final moments.

He hears someone laughing, their voice being carried down the corridor. Jim looks to his side and sees Uhura standing there with a sardonic smile on her lips before she takes off running. He's after her like a shot, his phaser out and ready to fire. 

He makes his way through semi-familiar surroundings as the sounds of struggling and phaser fire fade into the distance. All he can hear is the sound of his breathing and Uhura's footsteps ahead of him. Jim presses himself against a wall, peering out to check if he's clear, his heart pounding against his chest cavity. He swallows as he darts across the hall and slams his body against the other wall, his phaser out in front of him.

Uhura laughs again as she fires out of nowhere, the phaser beam hitting the corner, only inches from Jim's shoulder. He ducks as debris sprays against him, coating the side of his face, his hair, and the material of his jacket. 

Jim recovers quickly, firing back and hears Uhura cursing before she sprints out from her hiding place and into the transporter room. "You're a real bitch, you know that?" Jim calls out to her.

"So I've been told," she replies with malice. "Though none of them lived to tell me again."

"Well I'm telling you," Jim retorts as he inches out into the hallway.

"That really upsets me, Cadet," Uhura singsongs. "I've been so kind to you, you know? I could have killed you before McCoy even got to you. Spock would have been angry, but I really enjoy him when he's angry."

Jim takes a tentative step as he comes closer to the transporter room, the smell of Keenser's corpse permeating from the doorway. His eyes sting as the foul odor makes its way into his nose, wondering how Uhura could even stand it in there.

"Spock was so angry the night we found you," Uhura says from around the corner. "He fucked me up against the wall of my quarters, his hands on my throat - you know he likes doing that, don't you - going on about how you kept saying that you weren't Jim Kirk."

Jim bites his tongue to keep from retorting when Uhura's hand shoots out in a fist, clocking him in the nose. Jim stumbles back, tripping over his own feet as blood gushes from his nostrils.

She is about to punch him again when Jim grabs her wrist, flipping Uhura over his shoulder and onto the floor. She kicks him in the stomach, laughing as Jim grunts in pain.

"Poor little Jimmy Kirk," she taunts as she stumbles to her feet. "Poor little Jimmy Kirk who isn't really Jim Kirk."

"I'm not him," Jim grunts as he swings his phaser out, pointing the weapon at Uhura's head.

Uhura arches her brow and smirks. "You have a phaser? So scary," she says.

"You know that deep down I'm not him," Jim tells her as the coppery taste of blood fills his mouth. "I can see it in your eyes."

Uhura's face is calm and collected as she shakes her head. "I think you got lucky."

"Luck has nothing to do with it," Jim counters. "You know that Spock would have made sure that Jim Kirk was really dead before disposing of the body."

"McCoy lied."

"No," Jim says calmly. "He didn't lie. Jim Kirk was dead when Bones called his time of death. I bet you know the story. Spock probably told you."

Uhura smiles. "Oh he did. He told me how McCoy screamed as they tore him away from you, dragging him back to your quarters and leaving him there for days on end until he was compliant," she explains as she pulls out a knife from her jacket, the blade caked with dried blood. "I told Spock that he could do him a favor and kill the doctor as well, but Spock is logical. McCoy is the best of the best. Spock needed him to live."

Jim keeps his phaser trained on her. "Spock is not logical."

"You _would_ say that," Uhura snarls, lunging forward and retracting her movements as Jim counters her. She laughs, the sound as sweet as a bell despite the malevolence of the situation. "Silly boy."

Jim barely has time to register the blade flying through the air. He moves, feeling the knife burying itself into his shoulder and blinding him with white hot pain as he crumbles to the ground.

Uhura is on him in an instant, her nails digging into the tender skin of his neck as she claws at him. Jim has her by her thin wrists, struggling to push her off of him. He screams when she uses her elbow to dig the blade in deeper, tearing into his flesh. Uhura has his larynx in her grasp, her nails - filed to sharp points - breaking his skin.

"I'm going to rip your fucking throat out, Kirk," she growls into his ear. Jim is clawing at her hand as she presses down, cutting off his air.

He is gasping and breathless, his lungs frantic to get air in them. Uhura smiles down at him, that familiar and much loved face choking the life out of him. His fingernails sink into her skin, which only makes Uhura tighten her grip.

He panics as his vision begins to tunnel to darkness is edging with darkness. "Ny…ota… don't," he wheezes.

"What did you say?" Uhura says suddenly. She snarls as she eases her grip. "What did you _fucking_ say?" 

Jim swallows in the stale air of the outpost, his mouth working faster than his lungs. He coughs in her face and groans. 

"What did you say," Uhura threatens as she reaches for the blade still embedded in his shoulder. "Tell me."

"Nyota," Jim groans as the blade moves ever so slightly, causing his eyes to tear up. "Your name is Nyota."

A stunned expression latches itself into Uhura's beautiful features. He can tell by the look in her eyes that she never told Jim her name.

Not once, not ever. 

Like his Uhura had done, she kept it a well-guarded secret at first to irritate him, then as a game of cat and mouse. 

Except, the other Jim never lived to find out what it was. 

She gawks at Jim, her brown eyes wide and her mouth open in complete and utter shock. She looks like she's about to say something when an unseen force pulls her off him and her screams fill the air.

Jim heaves and coughs, working the muscles of his throat as he regains his breath. Groaning, he reaches up, his fingers wrapped around the hilt of the knife and pulls the blade out of his shoulder with a hiss. He glances down at the metal covered with his blood before tossing it into the transporter room.

He forces himself upright, grunting and groaning as the world threatens to slip away from him. Jim Kirk is a stubborn ass and he manages to bring himself to his knees. His shoulder flares up in protest and he curses under his breath, pressing a trembling hand to the wound, which pukes blood onto the concrete floor.

Uhura is screaming from around the bend, followed by the sound of someone's fists colliding with her body. 

"You fucking bitch!" Another hit. "You stupid, fucking bitch!" 

He knows _that_ voice.

He recognizes the hurt, the sadness, the despair. And the pure and unadulterated rage. 

Jim forces himself to his feet, relying heavily on the wall to support his weight as he stumbles down the hallway. A sharp pain nearly overwhelms him, but he stubbornly keeps going under he turns the corner, his breath hitching in his throat.

Bones is hovering over Uhura with both of his fists curled into tight balls that are already strained bright red with her blood. She is laughing at him, coughing the blood in her mouth onto his face, spattering crimson onto his pale skin. He continues punching her, each forceful blow hitting Uhura in the face without reprieve, breaking skin and bones.

Jim can hear Bones' ragged breathing and the rage in his voice as he screams at her. "I'm going to kill you!" Bones roars as he punches her again, knocking Uhura's head into the wall with a sickening thud. "I'm going to show _him_ what's it like, starting with _you_!"

Jim shakes his head. "Bones," he weakly calls out. "Bones, no."

"You think you can just murder innocent people for your amusement? Does he think he can do that? Do you?" Bones rages on, grabbing Uhura by the throat. "DO YOU?"

He thinks he hears a weak and delirious laugh escaping Uhura's mouth, but Jim isn't so sure. He staggers towards them, groaning with each painful movement. "Bones, stop!"

"Let me tell you something, darlin'," Bones screams as he continues punching Uhura. "I'm going to kill you, then I'm going to kill him. That's right – I'm going to pull the fucking trigger that ends him. I'll follow him into the depths of hell if I have to." 

Jim comes closer and nearly vomits. 

Uhura's face is only shattered bones, skin, and muscles. Pulp is a more accurate description. He can't tell where her mouth was or is, or if he's even looking at her face. But he knows that she's dead. At least he hopes that she is, for her sake.

"Bones," he says, his voice trembling. "Bones, stop. Please stop. She's dead."

He suddenly feels lightheaded, his legs giving out from under him and falls to the floor with an unceremonious thump. The noise seems to bring Bones out of his rage and he pauses punching Uhura's corpse mid-action.

His eyes are staring at Jim, momentarily stunned at the sight before him. Jim pants as he stares at Bones' blood spattered face and the retreating wild look in his eyes.

"Bones," he groans before allowing his body to collapse against the wall. A cry of pain escapes his lips as he hears footsteps coming from down the corridor. "Oh fuck…"

Bones is at his side in an instant, gingerly applying pressure to the wound on his shoulder. His brow furrows as Jim gasps. "Stay with me, kid," he says softly.

"Trying to," Jim whispers, balling his fists as a wave of pain nearly overwhelms him. "God…"

The footsteps are coming closer and soon Pike and the security team appear.

"We need a med kit!" Bones hollers as the group rushes up to them.

Jim sees Pike crouching next to him with a worried look in his eyes, to which he forces a feeble smile. "Flesh wound," he quips before wincing.

"I can see that," Pike replies, humorlessly, before turning to Bones. "How bad is it?"

Someone hands Bones a med kit, which he takes gratefully. "It's not going to kill him," Bones replies. "Apply pressure to the wound. I need to stabilize him." 

Jim lets out a shout as Pike presses down on his shoulder. 

"Drama queen," Bones hisses at him.

Jim gives him a lop-sided smile. "When you get stabbed, then we can talk," he retorts, closing his eyes.

"Not yet, kid," Bones tells him as he slaps Jim's cheek. "Stay with us."

Jim's eyes snap open and he glares at the doctor. "Fuck you."

"See," Bones says to Pike as he uses a laser scalpel to cut away the material of Jim's jacket, "he's going to be fine."

Jim grunts as Bones removes the jacket, discarding it carelessly by Uhura's body. He glances over at her and swallows, roughly. "I think I'm going to be sick," he states to Pike before he leans over and promptly vomits onto the floor.

"Give me just a minute, kid," Bones tells him as Jim recovers. He is holding a vascular stabilizer in his hands and has a determined look in his eyes. "Let me apply this to your shoulder and then you can faint."

"It's not _fainting_ , you sadistic piece of shit," Jim hisses at the doctor as he applies the stabilizer, "if I'm bleeding all over the place."

He glances down at Bones' ministrations and the bleeding wound, before deciding that it would probably be best to look away.

His head is swimming and his vision is darkening rapidly. Jim knows that Bones – either one of them – will be pissed if he doesn't follow the doctor's orders.

A cold sweat breaks out over his brow and his stomach pulls, as if he's being dragged through the floor.

"Okay kid," Bones says, their eyes meeting. "Go for it."

Jim lets out a relieved sigh as the darkness pulls him under. He swears he hears a shout, but he can't be so sure as he mercifully tumbles into darkness.

 

* * *

 

The next time he is aware of his surroundings, he hears a voice – low and full of fury – as it admonishes someone. 

"The next time I tell you take him back to the base, _you take him back to the base_!" Pike says in murderous tone, his voice piercing through the dissolving darkness. 

He doesn't hear the other person's reply over the sounds of the BioBed that he lays in, but whatever they have told Pike, it doesn't sit well with him. 

"I don't care if the fucking Abominable Snowman invites you to tea, Lieutenant Commander!" Pike rages on, his voice growing louder. "You take Kirk back to the base without question! He could have been killed!"

"Keptin!" says Chekov, his voice wary. "I think he's waking up!"

Jim swallows, wincing at the dryness of his throat, and shifts uncomfortably against the mattress. "Shh," he slurs in a hoarse voice. "Inside voices." 

He feels the kiss of a hypospray against his neck and instinctively bats away the medical device with a curse. Jim forces his eyes open, blinking once, then twice as the world appears to him.

"Cut it out," he grumbles as he turns his head. A man with graying hair and piercing green eyes stands over him with a scowl as he holds the hypospray in his hand. "You're not Bones," Jim says dumbly.

The man arches a brow. "No," he replies. "I'm not."

"Jim, this is Dr. Phillip Boyce," Pike says as he appears in Jim's line of sight, looking like he's aged ten years. Off to the side, Jim can see Scotty and Chekov hovering in the background, both of them banged up, but in one piece.

And alive.

Chekov has a cut over his brow that has a dermaseal over it, shining under the lights when he moves. The skin around his eye is beginning to bruise, but he seems like his normal self. Scotty, on the other hand, has a split lip that has dribbled blood down the front of his shirt and a red bruise on his cheek.

Jim nods in acknowledgement. "Where's Bones?"

"Dr. McCoy is resting," Boyce tells him as he pulls back the dermal stimulator unit that has been place over Jim's shoulder and inspects the healing wound. He touches the skin as gently as possible and nods in approval. "One more round and you should be good to go." He sees Jim wincing as he swallows. "Let me get you some water."

Jim is grateful for the cup of water, which he sips slowly through a straw before relaxing back into the mattress. "How long I have been here?" he asks in a tired voice.

"You've been unconscious for ten hours," Pike tells him as he takes the cup of water from Boyce, who starts typing into his PADD. "When you passed out, you almost landed in a puddle of your own vomit. You owe me a new shirt, by the way."

Jim chuckles softly as he closes his eyes. "Not my finest moment," he replies.

"Definitely not," Pike agrees. Jim can feel the older man's eyes on him, watching his every move as he lays in the BioBed. "You also lost a lot of blood."

Jim nods. "That probably explains why I'm so tired," he says.

"Sleep helps us heal, young man," Boyce tells Jim as he resets the dermal stimulator on his shoulder. "I'm going to keep you overnight for observation. We had to give you a transfusion once you were stabilized, plus a round of blood replenishers."

Jim doesn't argue, too tired to put up a fight. "Is Bones okay? What about the other _Enterprise_ crew members?"

"Gentlemen," he hears Pike say in a formal tone that means he wants people to clear the room. Jim opens his eyes to see Chekov and Scotty leaving, glancing back at him for a moment, before they disappear.

Boyce lingers behind to change the saline drip connected to the IV box that is secured around Jim's arm before he leaves to go make his rounds. "I'll be back soon," he tells Pike in a voice that means 'make it quick' before he departs.

"What is it?" asks Jim, worried.

Pike sighs as he sits on the side of the BioBed, mindful of jostling the sensors. "We cremated the other Jim's body once Boyce stabilized you," Pike tells him, his eyes watering briefly and betraying his collected exterior, "and I thought it would be best for Dr. McCoy to keep you both separated for the night while he processes what happened."

Jim nods, feeling oddly desolate. "Okay," he murmurs.

"The crew members from the _Enterprise_ are dead," Pike adds, sighing. "McCoy did a number on that woman, nearly crushed her face in with his own bare hands."

He swallows, nauseated by the memory. "I know," Jim replies. "I saw it."

"That's what he told me," Pike states, patting Jim's good shoulder. "Jim, I know what you did today was difficult and what you saw frightened you, even though I'm sure that's a serious understatement. But I wanted to thank you even if McCoy can't. You gave us a sense of closure."

Jim is silent, not knowing what to say, and looks away from Pike because he can't face the man. It's far too painful because he is saying exactly what his Pike would tell him.

"I do have some good news," he says, which grabs Jim's attention. "Scotty discovered an anomaly near the neutral zone – an electromagnetic disturbance. He believes that when you were flying that shuttle you told me about, you hit the disturbance at just the right time and you ended up here. He is going over the ionic currents being produced from the past week to see if he can replicate it."

Jim feels tears pricking his eyes. "So I might be able to go home?"

"Looks like it," Pike tells him with a sad smile. "Your Christopher Pike would have been very proud of you. I hope you know that."

Jim swallows back a sob and nods. He closes his eyes as Pike leans over him, pressing his lips to his forehead, and inhales deeply. When he opens his eyes, Pike is hovering above him with that same sad smile. Embarrassed, Jim averts his eyes, staring at the blankets that cover his body. His silent tears run down his face, spilling over onto the pillow and soaking the material.

"Are you okay?" Pike asks softly.

Jim begins to nod, but ends up shaking his head. He glances up at Pike, lips and chin trembling, shaking his head again. A whimper escapes, opening the flood gates and he falls apart, truly falls apart. 

He hears Pike make a sympathetic sound before the older man rests his scruffy cheek against the top of Jim's head, welcoming the comforting weight against him. "It's going to be okay," Pike tells him in a reassuring tone, gently pulling Jim closer to him. "You'll wake up tomorrow and everything will be better. You'll see." 

Jim doesn't respond because there's nothing to say. He closes his eyes as Pike strokes his hair, reminding him of how his mother used to do the same thing when she was home.

The memory is a vague one, but he is reminded of how much the gesture meant to him.

Pike is speaking to him in low, hushed tones saying words that are meant to comfort Jim as his cries dissolve into exhaustion, then finally sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Note:** The following content contains dubious consent.

When Jim walks into the quarters he shares with Bones, the doctor is not there and the room is eerily quiet. He shrugs off his jacket, wincing at the tightness from his shoulder, and drops it onto the back of a chair. The pillow on the lower bunk has the indentation of where Bones laid his head, although Jim wonders if the doctor was even able to sleep or if Boyce dosed him with a hypospray. 

Then he remembers Pike's words about how they cremated their Jim while he – the Jim who is still alive – laid unconscious on a BioBed. He sees a flash of Bones holding a small box, containing the ashes of his lover, run through his mind.

Jim can picture tears running down the doctor's face as his fingers grasp onto the only evidence that Bones had been happy; knuckles white, hands shaking with grief.

Then he wonders if his Bones felt the same way when his own life had ended and was brought into Sick Bay in a body bag. Jim had never asked because despite the sarcastic comments and jibes, he could see the relief in the doctor's eyes whenever he came to see him in the hospital and thought it would be best not to mention it. 

Now Jim wishes he had.

Scotty had assured Jim as Boyce was discharging him that he would be able to replicate the anomaly. "It seems that there was an explosion," Scotty explained.

"An explosion?" Jim inquired as Boyce helped him rotate his shoulder, the doctor watching his movements with a sharp eye.

Scotty nodded. "Oh aye," he replied. "At the same time your shuttle hit the disturbance, a pulse from an explosion – a photon torpedo more like – hit the same area, causing a ripple between the two realities. Did yeh see anything when yeh came through?"

"I barely noticed anything," Jim answered.

Scotty was perplexed. "Really?" he asked, making a face. "Really? Yeh crossed over into another reality and barely noticed? That's mind bogglin'!"

"The shuttle shook a bit, but I didn't think anything of it," Jim said before hissing in pain.

Boyce nodded and began to poke Jim's shoulder, touching the smooth skin of where a jagged knife wound used to be.

"Fascinatin'," Scotty mused. The Scotsman had peppered Jim with questions and theories through lunch and their walk back to Jim and the doctor's quarters, where Scotty had dropped him off. True to form, Scotty didn't notice the far away expression on Jim's face or that he barely touched the food on his plate.

Jim crosses the room and sits down on the lower bunk, where he takes off his boots. As he takes them off, his fingers brush over the sole of his boots, when he feels something flake off on his fingers. He looks down and sees specks of rust against his skin. 

Blood.

His blood and Uhura's are flecked across his fingers. 

Jim stares at it absently, his body and mind numb. It's just him and the horrors he's witnessed over the last week, trapped alone in a room. Jim is so wrought out that he's surprised that he can still function on a semi-coherent level that he's afraid that he's becoming desensitized.

He begins to wonder if he even has a place in his own reality. If Scotty is able to get him home, how will be possible for Jim go to back to his life?

How will he look at his friends the same way again, without seeing their counterparts glossed over their faces?

Will each smile turn into a snarl?

Or their touch, meant to be gentle and welcoming, remind him of harsher actions? 

And what about his Bones? How is going to look at him the same way again without think of the other Bones and his relationship with his Jim? Or the other Bones' lips pressed up against his or his screams as he held the other Jim's body in his arms? 

Jim is so lost in his own head that he doesn't hear Bones come into the room.

"Kid?" Bones asks, his voice breaking through Jim's thoughts.

Jim looks up, startled, to see Bones standing by the door. The older man looks weary and unsure as he enters the room. "You're back," he says dumbly.

"So are you," Bones observes. "How's the shoulder?"

"Functional," Jim replies as he wipes his hand on the material of his pants.

Bones raises a questioning brow, but doesn't say anything. Instead, he removes his jacket, tossing it carelessly on the nearest surface. "When did you get back?" he asks casually.

"A little while ago," Jim tells him as he pulls off his other boot and tosses it on the floor.

Bones follows the boot as it bounces on the floor, rolling his eyes dramatically as it comes to a stop near the door as he takes a seat in one of the chairs. "I'm sorry that I didn't come by to see you once you woke up," he apologizes.

"Bones," Jim starts.

Bones gives him a look that means shut up or else. "You don't need to say whatever you're about the say, kid," he tells Jim. "I had a lot on my mind last night and I needed to sort my head out before I saw you."

Jim nods sympathetically. "I understand."

"I figured that you would," Bones says, looking down at his hands. "He was always pretty understanding, even when he was being a pain in my ass. It goes without saying that you two are very much alike."

Jim smirks. "I guess you could say that."

"Yeah, I guess I could," Bones replies, sadly. He glances up, his eyes bright, and sighs. "Seeing you right now is difficult…where the hell are you going?"

Jim is on his feet and grabbing his boots. "I'm going to Pike's quarters," he states.

"Why?"

"Because you are clearly uncomfortable with me being here and I already did enough damage yesterday."

" _Damage_?" Bones croaks. "What damage?"

Jim whirls around, angry. "Don't act like you have no idea what I'm talking about! I lead you to Jim's body when I should have forced you to stay here."

"Then Uhura would have killed you," Bones counters, jumping to his feet.

"I would have been fine!"

"Oh with a knife in your shoulder and that bitch's hands wrapped around your throat?"

Jim tosses one of his boots at Bones, who ducks out of the way as Jim stomps over to the door. "It was _one hand_ , first of all! And this is so like you, you know?" he shouts, his chest heaving as he shakes a finger at the other man. "Whenever something goes wrong, you just go ape shit on me! _All_ of the fucking time! You just tear into me-"

His words are cut off by Bones pulling him by the back of his head into a fierce kiss, dying on the doctor's tongue.

Jim makes a sound of protest as Bones' tongue brushes against his own, sucking and licking. He can taste bourbon on the doctor's tongue as it invades his mouth and feel Bones' stubble rubbing against his face as the doctor adjusts the angle of his face. 

As suddenly as it began, Bones disengages his lips from Jim's and takes a step back.

Automatically, Jim leans forward to chase after the lips that were just on his before the reality hits him and he realizes that Bones just kissed him. They stand there, staring at each other as the moments tick by, not speaking.

Bones finally bridges the gap by stepping towards Jim, their lips are _almost_ touching.

The doctor is staring him down, like a hunter tracking his prey. He can feel Bones' breath against his skin, hot and wanting. Jim's heart is pressing up against his throat with mixed emotions – anticipation, worry, longing, disgust. 

He is surprised as Bones' lips brush against his once more in a tentative kiss. It's not heated or desperate as the others before it, just soft and tender.

Stunned, Jim doesn't close his eyes or even move. He's frozen solid, pinned between the door and Bones' warm body. 

When Bones pulls back, he is heavy lidded and has a tranquil look on his face. "Missed you," he murmurs to Jim as he presses his lips against the younger man's once more.

The kiss is fiercer this time, passionate. Bones' tongue is exploring his mouth, tracing the tip against his own tongue and eliciting a moan that comes from somewhere deep in Jim's chest. Jim, himself, is startled by his reaction and that he's kissing Bones back. It's not with the same intensity, but it seems to make Bones happy nonetheless.

The doctor's hands are under the material of his shirt, his fingertips tracing invisible lines on the planes of Jim's stomach. His fingers move upward, using Jim's muscles as a trail, and laid flush against his chest. Jim groans as Bones' pinches one of his nipples, causing it to pebble. 

Bones' hands leave his chest, falling downward in soft strokes. His mouth is following and Jim closes his eyes, breathing heavily as the doctor's full lips kiss every inch of skin. Bones knows his body intimately, applying pressure to flesh that Jim is unaware would turn his blood to molten lava. He moans when Bones sucks on the crest of his hip and dances his tongue over the sensitive flesh.

Jim opens his eyes a crack and sees moss green irises staring up at him. He swallows because it's Bones - not his Bones, but Bones all the same - kneeling between his legs. Jim can see his own erection through the material of his pants and the look in Bones' eyes, silently asking permission to proceed. 

He nods because he doesn't know what else to do. Bones - both of them - have saved his life countless times, this Bones more recently than the other. It's his twisted way of repaying him. 

Part of him is still convinced that he's dreaming and that when he wakes, his Bones is going to kill him. He hears the zipper of his pants being undone, as well as the clasp at his waist. 

He swallows.

Jim is perfectly aware that he shouldn't be allowing _this_ to happen, but he figures it's giving the doctor a measure of peace.

His Jim is dead – his ashes sealed inside a box because there's no place to bury him - while he is still alive.

Jim hisses through his teeth as Bones pulls his pants down and his erection springs free from its confines. The doctor's callused hand is stroking him in slow deliberate movements, the same way Jim would jerk himself off. 

"Missed you so much," he hears Bones whisper as his thumb rubs the underside of Jim's cockhead, igniting a groan. That voice, the low drawl filled with desire and yearning. It's meant for someone else, but Jim observes that it doesn't seem to matter.

Jim is about to remind him that he is not his Jim when he feels Bones' hot, wet lips engulf his head. He shudders, bracing one of his hands against the door while the other engulfs Bones' short hair. He hears a wet pop and the cool air of the quarters against his organ. The feeling of Bones' tongue dragging from his slit down his shaft makes Jim quiver.

He whines incoherently as the doctor's mouth moves back up and engulfs him, taking Jim's cock deeper into his mouth. Jim glances down and draws his lower lip with his teeth, suppressing another groan. Bones' lips are more than halfway down his shaft and Jim can feel the muscles in his mouth working. The suction of his mouth, the swirl of his tongue - it was maddening, too maddening and not enough. Not nearly enough.

A cry fall from Jim's lips as Bones' hand cups his balls, lightly tugging on the sack of flesh and thumbing the cleft in the middle. Jim presses the doctor's face closer to him, earning a chuckle that vibrates through his body. 

So much like _his_ Bones, except not at all. The hand moves further back, brushing over his perineum and subsequently causing Jim to thrust into Bones' greedy mouth until a finger is brushing over the puckered skin of his hole.

Bones doesn't rush it, teasing Jim with feather light touches before sliding one finger into him.

Jim grits through his teeth and jerks his hips as he feels the sting of being opened up. His muscles contract and he swallows back a groan. 

Bones' mouth is still working his cock and as his finger presses against Jim's prostate, causing the younger man to thrust, the doctor moans. Jim nearly doubles over from the sensation, steadying himself with both hands on Bones' shoulders. 

The doctor uses the opportunity to slide another finger into Jim's hole, scissoring him and working him open. 

Jim can feel everything - every movement, every muscle tightening, the pleasure coiling in his stomach and building.

Bones' face is pressed up against his pubic bone, his mouth full of Jim's aching cock, bringing the captain closer to the brink. Two fingers brush against his prostate, expertly teasing the organ in time with the mouth on his dick.

It's too much, much too much.

He's coming undone, falling to pieces.

Jim's world, already fractured, is shattering around him.

Shards of everything he's known is swept away with the first tendrils of his orgasm, which is hard. 

Harder than he ever imagined and it rocks him to his core. 

He cries out wordlessly and finds himself pulsating into Bones' mouth, spurt after spurt of semen going down the doctor's throat. Bones doesn't stop, coaxing Jim's orgasm out of him until he is hunched over the doctor, panting and dizzy and grasping his hair with a tug.

In the sparkling darkness of his closed eyes, Jim feels Bones' lips moving back up his body, which is singing with overly sensitive nerves. Lips are on his neck, teasing a sensitive spot under his chin as the fingers in his ass are withdrawn. Jim hisses.

The sound is cut off by a sudden kiss and Bones' tongue exploring Jim's mouth. He can taste himself on the doctor's tongue - salty, but not unpleasantly so. It's foreign to him, but doesn't protest as Bones cups the back of his head, pulling him closer.

The doctor is guiding him over to the lower bunk, helping him shed his clothing between kisses that are becoming more frantic. Jim finds himself naked on the bed, his back to Bones as he props himself up on his elbows. 

Bones is kissing him down each column of his spine, nipping and teasing his flesh, re-memorizing every scar, freckle, and mole. Jim hears him muttering breathlessly. "Missed you so much, Jim. God, I missed you," Bones moans.

He should correct the doctor, but doesn't have the heart to. Jim swallows back a lump in his throat, allowing Bones to indulge himself. He feels the doctor's erection in between his cheeks, his engorged head pressing at Jim's hole.

Jim braces himself, balling the sheets of the bed in his fists, for a thrust that never comes. Wary, Jim turns his head and sees Bones, naked and beautiful, looking at him with those familiar eyes, silently asking permission. 

He nods, not knowing exactly why.

He listens to Bones opening a bottle and lubing up his fingers. The doctor strokes himself before bracing his erection between Jim's cheeks. The pressure makes his breath hitch in his chest. 

Jim feels Bones' hand brushing against one of his, clasping him and wiggling fingers between his own, until they are laced with Bones'. The doctor gives his hand a reassuring squeeze and presses his lips to the nape of Jim's neck as he gently pushes himself inside of the captain. 

Jim swallows, feeling the burn of stretching muscles. He gasps, squeezing Bones' hand as the doctor's hand wraps around his middle, stroking his stomach.

"It's okay," Bones soothes in a husky voice. "I've got you." 

He sinks deeper inside of Jim, the burning lessening; replaced by the feeling of being full. Impossibly so. Jim sucks in a deep breath as he feels his muscles fluttering around Bones' erection. 

"That's it," Bones whispers thickly. The doctor groans as he guides himself further into Jim, the vibration spreading through Jim's body. 

Jim almost laughs, wondering how he's allowed himself to get caught up in this upside down universe when he only wants to get home. Bones is murmuring words of encouragement and sweet nothings into his ear in an effort to get Jim to relax as the doctor buries himself in Jim's ass.

Soon, the doctor is fully seated inside of Jim and he hears a rumble of pleasure coming from Bones.

"You okay?" he hears Bones ask, his voice choking on his words.

Jim nods. "I'm fine," he replies, his voice barely above a whisper. He lets out a ragged sigh of relief as Bones pulls out and gently thrusts back into him, brushing his dick against Jim's prostate. Jim arches against the doctor. "God…"

It stirs his own member, making him hard once more as Bones continues to drive himself into Jim. He bites his lip as Bones' hand drifts from the planes of Jim's stomach to his erection.

Jim cries out as Bones begins to stroke him in time of the movement of his hips. His head falls back on Bones' shoulder as he thrusts into the doctor's skilled hand. He feels like his body no longer belongs to him as Jim surrenders to the doctor, rutting and eagerly meeting each of Bones' thrusts.

Bones groans obscenities in the shell of his ear, teasing him, taunting him, and arousing him beyond all measure. Jim shudders against the doctor, who captures his earlobe between his teeth, tugging on it as his hips gain momentum, thrusting harder and harder. 

Bones lets go of Jim's hand and brings it up to his chin, turning the younger man's head towards his. Jim moans into his mouth and quakes into his hand, his semen spilling all over Bones' hand. His muscles are clenching against the cock in his ass, overwhelming him. 

Bones stills, his fingers digging painfully into Jim's hips as he breaks the kiss, and cries out as his own orgasm crashes over him. Jim lets out a gasp as Bones' semen fills him, hot, pulsing, and foreign.

He can feel Bones' ragged breath on the back of his neck, cool against his sweaty skin as he remains locked in the doctor's embrace. 

Jim raises his head, looking at the wall in front of him, and feels tears stinging his eyes as he realizes he's gone down the rabbit hole.

Gone, never to return.

 

* * *

 

Later, they are laying on the lower bunk in a tangle of limbs and sheets. Jim is the pinnacle of silence and is staring at nothing in particular, letting his mind wander. Bones' arm is draped over his middle, keeping him anchored like a ship in stormy waters.

He feels the steady rise and fall of the doctor's chest against his back as the older man dozes. He's envious that sleeps has come more easily to his friend's counterpart. He doesn't know how to feel about what has transpired and almost doesn't want to think about it - _for now_.

Perhaps later, when his mind isn't going at warp, Jim will think about the consequences, but for now he is content with the silence.

Jim shifts his body, pillowing his head on his arm, and lets out a sigh.

Bones moves his leg against Jim's, the doctor's rough hair brushing against his own, and makes a sound that indicates to the younger man that he's waking up. Jim doesn't do anything – speak or move – and just listens to the doctor's climb back towards consciousness.

He feels Bones shifting against him: fingers brushing against his skin, scruff against the back of his neck, a flaccid penis against his ass. He hears Bones groan against his shoulder blade and feels the flutter of his lashes as his eyes open. 

They lay in silence for a while, Jim too scared to open his mouth and Bones shaking the last tendrils of sleep.

"Why did you do it?" he hears Bones ask, his voice thick with sleep, before he presses his lips against Jim's shoulder blade. "Why did you let me…" He can almost hear Bones' thoughts as he tries to search for the correct word. "…have sex with you?"

Jim has been thinking the exact same thing for the last several hours, searching for an answer that never comes. He shrugs and mutters, "I don't know."

"You don't owe me anything," Bones says, moving his body so that he's propped up on his elbow, looking down at Jim. "I know that my Jim is dead and gone, but you don't owe me anything, kid."

Jim doesn't say anything and instead watches the doctor hovering above him as he brushes his thumb against the curve of Jim's bicep with a look of barely contained longing in his eyes. "But I'm still here," he whispers.

Bones' thumb stops moving and he gets that look in his eyes when he thinks he may have misheard Jim, except he knows that he hasn't. Usually it's followed by a scowl or a tirade that lasts for anywhere from five minutes to hours. But this Bones looks surprised, _very_ surprised.

He arches one of his brows as he studies Jim. "What's your point?" he finally asks.

Jim shrugs, which earns a frustrated groan and a dramatic eye roll from the doctor.

"Kid, you _don't_ owe me a single thing. This," Bones says, gesturing to their bodies pressed up against one another, "I don't know what this is, but you don't owe me anything."

"Maybe I wanted to," Jim says bitterly. It's a half-truth at best, but he doesn't need to tell Bones that. Instead, he stares at the doctor with a spark of rebelliousness in his eyes.

Bones doesn't quite believe him. "Did you?"

"I don't do things I don't want to do," Jim tells him.

Now the doctor looks perturbed and for a moment, Jim thinks he's going to go off on one of his famous rants because that's what his Bones does. 

 _Your Bones doesn't fuck you_ , says a voice in his head and makes Jim inwardly cringe. 

Instead of yelling, this Bones just lets out a sigh and mutters, "What is going in that head of yours, kid?"

He's not expecting an answer as his words is more of an observation than anything else. Jim may do a lot of stupid shit, but he's not daft.

Jim tilts his head, watching Bones as Delta Vega's sun sets through the window and casts shadows that dance across his familiar face. "I needed to forget for a while," Jim admits in a low voice, so low that he's not sure if Bones heard him.

"Did it help?" Bones asks.

Jim shrugs and begins tapping his fingers against Bones' forearm, pressing an invisible melody into the doctor's skin. Unexpectedly he reaches for Bones, cupping his hand against the back of the older man's head and pulls the plush lips to his own. 

Something inside of him is broken – an indiscernible boundary. It's not the worst thing in Jim's world and it's not exactly unwelcomed. He's already in pieces, battered beyond repair, and he might as well accept it. And if that's the case, he may as well be in the arms of someone he cares about even if it's not really _him_.

As Jim cautiously runs his tongue against Bones' lips, he figures that the man has thrown him off guard more than once, so it's only fair that he returns the favor. Bones' lips part and Jim's tongue darts inside his mouth, hot and welcoming, brushing against the doctor's tongue. Jim fists the dark brown strands in his hand and groans into Bones' mouth, causing the doctor to pull back. 

Bones is pressing a hand against the center of Jim's chest, his lips parted as he pants. "What the hell are you doing?" he demands.

"I _was_ kissing you," Jim retorts as he pushes himself to his elbows.

"You're out of your goddamn mind."

"Hypocrite," Jim snorts. "Now get back down here and shut up!"

Bones shakes his head. "Do _you_ even know what you're doing right now?"

"No," Jim growls as he pulls Bones down to him again, their lips brushing against each other. "And I don't care."

"You're insane," Bones grumbles against his lips. He sounds more amused than pissed off. "Completely insane. Pike should lock you up in a padded cell and throw away the key."

"You may like that too much," Jim teases before kissing Bones again.

Bones snorts and pushes him back, again. "Look you masochist, you've been a through a lot of shit lately-"

"Bones, just _shut up_!" Jim shouts before he pulls the doctor on top of him, pressing his lips against the other man's in a way that leaves him breathless when Jim pulls back. "Just shut up and let me have this."

The pink and orange rays of light from the setting sun hit Bones' eyes just so that they look like golden flames. He has a scowl on his face before his expression softens and he leans down, kissing Jim. "All right, darlin'," the doctor mummers against Jim's lips. "Since you asked so nicely."

 

* * *

 

It's nearly midnight and the lights are set low.

The room is quiet, except the sounds of breathing and the occasional yawn that tumbles out of McCoy's mouth. He's propped up on one elbow, which surprisingly holds steady since the rest of him feels like jelly. His limbs wobble and ache in that detached sort of feeling when one indulges in too much sex. It's not an unpleasant feeling and it brings back good memories. 

Below him is a thoroughly debauched Jim Kirk, who is out cold on his stomach and snoring softly through kiss swollen lips. His cheeks are still flushed from exertion while his hair is wild and carefree.

It goes without saying that this Jim hasn't slept with many men. Despite his lack of experience the kid was eager and willing and downright smug at times. He had kissed McCoy like he was oxygen and the only way for Jim to survive and had sex as if it was the only thing anchoring him to reality. 

Perhaps it was, perhaps it wasn't.

Either way, McCoy is pretty sure that Jim enjoyed himself as much as the doctor did given his current state. They had stopped nearly an hour ago and collapsed on the makeshift bed on the floor of the quarters. 

The bed was not meant for two people, let alone two grown men, as they learned when McCoy accidentally tumbled off the mattress and dragged Jim with him. They were too wrapped up in the skin to skin contact and frantic kisses to do much about it except for pull the comforter off the lower bunk and wrap it around them. It was only after they had finished that Jim pointed out that they were on the floor before he burst out laughing against McCoy's chest, the sound vibrating through his body. 

So the pile grew during the course of the evening, cocooning them in warmth.

McCoy isn't sure what changed, but he figures that this Jim needs him as much as he needs him. He isn't going to complain because the universe has decided to play nice and grant him a second chance with Jim, even if he is someone else's. 

"Stop staring at me," he hears Jim grumble, making him chuckle.

McCoy reclines until he is eye level with Jim. "I wasn't staring," he tells the younger man.

"Whatever you were doing, it was creepy," Jim retorts as he opened his too blue eyes, clear of anxiety and sadness. He is grinning, indicating that he's not really pissed off. "Couldn't sleep?"

McCoy shrugs. "I was just thinking," he replies as he reaches out to brush some of Jim's hair off his forehead, feeling his sticky skin underneath his fingertips.

"About?" Jim inquires as he shifts and rolls over to his side, scooting up against McCoy's body so he can rest his head on the doctor's shoulder.

McCoy snakes an arm around Jim's waist, pulling him closer. "What changed?" he asks as his fingers stroke the span above Jim's hip. When Jim shrugs, McCoy scoffs. "Come on, kid. We have literally fucked all over this room and now you've decided to clam up?"

"I'm not clamming up," Jim retorts. "I just think… what if I'm not meant to go back?"

Whatever McCoy was expecting to come out Jim's mouth, it certainly wasn't _that_. He is startled by the comment and needs a moment before responding. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe I don't belong _there_ anymore," Jim tells him in an even tone. "Maybe I was meant to come here all long and make things right."

"I don't know, kid…"

"Neither do I, but what if Scotty can't replicate the disturbance that brought me here? I mean, it's like a one in a million shot that I even came here in the first place. To replicate it… the odds are even worst," Jim explains while pressing his lips against McCoy's skin.

Begrudgingly McCoy admits that the kid had a valid point. He wants to keep a positive outlook on returning Jim back to his reality for Jim's sake and sanity because he had thought that's what Jim needed to hear. "Meaning?" McCoy asks.

Jim glances up at him with a shy smile. "I'm saying that I don't mind _this_ ," he replies as he places a hand on McCoy's stomach. 

McCoy has no idea what to say and watches Jim as he lifts his head off his shoulder. He has a distinctive feeling that this Jim, like his own, is going to continue surprising the hell out of him and it's not necessarily the worst thing in the world. 

"I don't want to replace him," Jim says softly, "and I know you won't replace my Bones, but we could be happy."

McCoy notices that Jim looks incredibly nervous as he speaks and decides at that moment to cup his cheek, stroking his cheekbones with his thumb. "So what are you saying, kid?" he asks.

"If I'm going to be stuck in another reality, universe, whatever this place is… I want you to be there… with me," Jim tells him, averting his eyes.

McCoy pulls Jim down, letting the younger man rest his head against the doctor's shoulder once more as the following moments pass in silence. His head is dizzy with what Jim has said, admitted, and implied. 

 _No_ , he thinks to himself, _it wouldn't be the worst thing to happen._

He doesn't want Jim to give up on going home even if it means that he will lose him again. If _his_ Jim's death has taught him one thing, it's to be brave. 

"We're going to figure this out," McCoy finally says, planting a kiss into Jim's hair. Jim nods from under him and drapes an arm over McCoy's stomach. "Regardless of what happens, I'll keep you safe, okay? I won't let anyone hurt you."

Jim fidgets a little. "I know," he tells him.

"Good," McCoy replies. "Now, no more talking… just close your eyes and sleep." 

He holds Jim until he's sure that the younger man has drifted off once more. McCoy tilts his head and sees Jim's slack features, making him grin to himself. 

This – whatever it is – it could work if science and time fails them, leaving Jim stranded here.

There are plenty of relationships built on stranger foundations.

This Jim could never replace his own and McCoy knows that, but he could be happy again and he think that he could make this Jim happy. Jim sighs against his chest, sounding content and secure in McCoy's arms, and the doctor decides that yes, he could make him happy.

He rests his cheek against the top of Jim's head and whispers, "Computer, lights at zero."


	10. Chapter 10

He was delirious with rage as he stared at the transporter pad. 

Spock didn't need one of his insolent crew members to tell him that the corpse whose blood was running onto the pad was Uhura's.

He knew from the moment that he was paged over the ship's intercom system. Hell, he knew long before that, when the shuttle never came back and they lost communication with the team that Uhura lead to Delta Vega. 

As he stared at the mahogany skin, blood sticky hair, and long limbs gone rigid by death, Spock knows that he took a risk sending her down there. 

She was fine with it, of course, because she is Uhura and Uhura is almost as ruthless as he. She liked all things violent and blood spattered, interwoven with screams and pleading. It was safe to say that Uhura got off on it.

Not that _he_ minded. 

She loved staring down at her victims, hair wild and eyes twinkling, with a smile before gutting them with her knife. She was his own Elizabeth Báthory.

He had told her about the countess one evening and how she retained her youth with the blood of virgins. "Oh, I like that," Uhura had purred into his ear, her tongue running along the cartilage. "She was a smart woman."

Spock raised a brow. "She got caught," he had told her as his hand moved from her neck to the valley between her breasts, tracing an invisible line on her silky skin with his nail. He wanted to press down and draw blood, then watch it bubble to the surface of Uhura's chest, but he knew that she would be angry.

And Uhura is lethal when she's angry. "I'll never get caught," Uhura whispered as she settled herself into his lap. 

Spock approaches the pad and turns Uhura over so he can see her face.

To his disgust, her face is nothing but broken flesh and shattered bones. He thinks he sees a sliver of brown iris staring up at him, but she is such a mess that Spock cannot be certain. 

"Were you able to pinpoint the origin of the transporter beam?" Spock asks in a level tone as he turns to Sulu.

Sulu is avoiding Uhura's body and does so with a grimace. "We are working on it, captain," he replies, his voice cracking with nausea. "The technology from which the beam was created is far more advanced than we had anticipated."

"More advanced?" Spock inquires as he turns to Sulu, his brow bowing as his anger rises. "How?"

Sulu shrugs. "I don't know, sir," he says. "It carries the same marker that Kirk and McCoy used to beam off the Enterprise. That's all we know right now."

"That is not good enough," Spock tells him.

Sulu nods. "I realize that, but I can't go down to Engineering and start shooting people because they are working too slowly."

"True," Spock says because he knows that Sulu is thinking logically. "I must admit that while it is illogical, shooting people can be so entertaining." He smiles at Sulu, who returns it. "What of Kirk and McCoy?"

Sulu shakes his head. "There is nothing."

"It does not mean that they will not make an appearance," Spock mutters.

"Do you want me to notify the admiralty?" asks Sulu.

"No," Spock growls suddenly, his anger barely contained. "No! They _cannot_ know about this. We are the flagship of the fleet and they cannot know that some lowly cadet and lovesick doctor managed to escape!" Spock grabs the front of Sulu's uniform, violently tugging on the other man, bringing his face inches from the captain's own. "They _cannot_ , Hikaru. We cannot show them weakness or all of us will pay. That is what McCoy and Kirk want!"

Sulu nods, his deep brown eyes cold and calm. "I understand, captain."

Spock lets him go, brushing his hands down the front of Sulu's rumpled uniform to ease the creases. He straightens his posture and inhales deeply. "Very well," he replies. "I would like to monitor the activity on Delta Vega, just in case if _they_ are biding their time. Kirk is incredibly clever."

"Though not nearly as clever as you," Sulu adds.

Spock presses his lips together. "I _am_ logical," he corrects. "There is a difference."

He turns back to Uhura's body on the transporter pad and his nostrils flare. "Shove her out an airlock. I will not have rotting corpses on my ship." 

Before Sulu can answer, Spock turns on his heel and leaves.

 

* * *

 

He's on his back, the pillows propping up his head so he can watch in awe as James T. Kirk fucks himself on his dick. 

McCoy takes in the parted lips, closed eyes, sweat drenched skin and muscles…even the throbbing cock that bounces between their bodies as Jim impales himself over and over again and is mesmerized. Each anticipatory gasp and sigh is a melody only meant for McCoy's ears and the occasional strained words that are uttered from those full lips - _Jim's lips_ \- are just for him. 

They've been secluded in their quarters for the past day if McCoy's estimate is correct.

It's all a blur, to be honest. A blur of skin against skin, a tangle of limbs, crushing of lips, and frantic words, followed by the blissfulness of dozing off until it starts again.

Regardless, they are in their own little reality, temporarily safe from the horrors outside. They are getting to know each other as individuals, foregoing the memory of their counterparts. 

McCoy likes to watch Jim as he reacts to the doctor's touch. He savors each and every movement, expression, and sound as he works Jim into a frenzy and achieves the desired result. 

In turn, Jim listens to McCoy whispering graphic instructions into his ear before he reenacts them on the doctor's body with a smug grin. McCoy likes to watch the goose bumps that rise on Jim's skin or how his pupils dilate as the doctor tells him how fast, how slow, how hard or the quickening of Jim's breathing when McCoy lets out a heady groan and says, "Just like that." 

Every time they collapse on the pile of blankets and pillows, Jim curls himself against McCoy, resting his head against a shoulder or the doctor's chest before cracking a joke or complimenting the older man's talents. It always leads into pillow talk in hushed voices and nuzzling and when they are ready, more sex.

Eventually they will need to return to the reality of their situation, but for now, it suits McCoy and Jim just fine.

He hears Jim release a shuddering moan and feels the younger man's grip tighten on his knees. 

Jim doesn't say much during sex and lets all of his emotion be conveyed through body language and his blue eyes.

All McCoy can do is watch and memorize Jim's face as he gets closer to the brink: uninhibited and breathtakingly beautiful.

Jim draws his teeth over his lower lip and groans as McCoy's dick hits him at the right angle, making the doctor shiver. 

Hell, he's close too. Pleasure is uncoiling in McCoy's stomach and winding its way through his body, straight to his organ that is embedded inside of soft tissue and tight muscle. He reaches between them, his hand on Jim's cock and strokes, feeling the muscles around his own dick tighten. 

He decides to do this thing that used to make his Jim collapse in pleasure without fail and sing the doctor's praises until he was ready to go again (or passed out against McCoy's body).

McCoy tugs on Jim and flicks his wrist over the sensitive cockhead, dragging his thumb on the underside. He watches with delight as the sudden movement catches Jim off guard and his eyes snap open, the pupils blown so wide that the blue irises are nothing but thin lines.

Jim lets out a strangled cry as he falls apart in McCoy's hand, moaning out a single word over and over until he's incoherent.

_Bones._

McCoy feels Jim arch his back as the muscles in his ass clinch around the doctor's cock, propelling him over the edge and joining Jim in climax, their shredded voices filling the room. As the last of McCoy's orgasm dwindles and his surroundings came back to him, he hears Jim's ragged breathing in his ear and smells the sweat in his hair.

The younger man clumsily detangles himself from the doctor with half-hearted curses and slumps down next to him on the makeshift bed.

"You need to warn a guy before you do that," Jim pants as he drops his arm on to McCoy's sweat slick stomach. "What the _hell_ was that anyways?"

McCoy chuckles as ruffles Jim's hair, feeling the dampness between his fingers. "A trick," he replies.

"Some trick," Jim tells him sourly. 

McCoy watches as Jim lifts his head and sees his glazed eyes, flushed skin, and languid expression. _I did this to you_ , the doctor thinks to himself with a grin and chuckles again. 

"I thought I was going to have an aneurysm!" Jim whines as he slides over the doctor and pins him down.

McCoy makes a face. "Poor thing," he says in mock sympathy as Jim leans in to kiss him. They stay like that for several moments, their lips and tongues in an intimate dance as McCoy pulls away. "You're like a fucking jack rabbit," he complains.

"Don't act like you don't like it," Jim counters with a teasing smirk.

McCoy rolls his eyes. "I like it just fine," he says in a husky voice, "but my dick is getting sore. And I'm hungry." At that very moment, his stomach gurgles - proving his point. "Why don't we make ourselves look presentable and go to the mess hall?"

Jim is contemplating this idea and after a moment, nods in agreement before pushing himself off the doctor. From his place on the floor, McCoy watches the younger man walking around the room buck ass naked: well-muscled, fair skinned, and perfect in McCoy's eyes.

Jim is grabbing a clean change of clothing when he catches the doctor staring at him. "Admiring the view?" he asks flirtatiously as he waggles his brows.

McCoy snorts and grumbles, "You're impossible."

"Not really," Jim says. "You were able to corral me."

"With my _dick_."

"And what a lovely dick it is," Jim quips as he grabs a pair of pants from the closet. He stops and turns around, facing McCoy in all his naked glory and a serious expression. "I never thought sex could be that intense."

McCoy shrugs as he gets to his feet. "Maybe you were doing it wrong," he jibes as he starts shuffling over to the head, feeling quite pleased with himself when he hears Jim scoff.

"I _am not_ doing it wrong," Jim argues as McCoy starts the shower. He is standing in the doorway with a scowl on his face.

McCoy chortles because the scowl on those handsome features is downright hilarious. He shakes his head and starts testing the water to make sure it's not ice cold.

"It's more intense with _you_ ," he hears Jim saying.

McCoy looks back and shrugs. "It was always like that," he tells the younger man in a soft voice. "With us."

Jim nods in understanding before coming up behind McCoy, wrapping his arms around his middle. McCoy leans back into the embrace as Jim's stubble covered cheek presses against his shoulder blade and closes his eyes, basking in the comfortable silence. 

"Shower?" Jim finally asks, his lips against McCoy's neck, dangerously near the spot that Jim knows drives the doctor crazy.

McCoy nods. "Then food," he adds.

"What about more fucking?"

" _Food_ ," McCoy growls.

Jim relents with an exaggerated sigh as McCoy pulls him into the shower.

McCoy should know better because Jim is Jim, no matter which Jim it is, and ends up getting the blow job of his life, climaxing into the younger man's mouth just as the water runs cold.

 

* * *

 

Jim is not a blusher. Only a select few have been able to rouse a flush on his cheeks and one of them is giving him a knowing look as Jim and Bones sit down across from them. 

"Oh aye," Scotty grumbles as he shoves food into his mouth and chews. "Now yeh show up!" 

Bones doesn't say anything as he sits across from Chekov, who looks genuinely confused. The doctor gives Jim a sideway glance before picking up a fork and getting down the business of eating.

"Oh," Scotty says, his voice cracking with amusement as Jim's cheek turn bright pink, "he's blushing like a maiden!" He turns to Bones who is busy eating and points his fork at the doctor. "Aren't yeh corrupting 'em, doctor?" 

Bones shrugs nonchalantly, his mouth full of food. 

"Meh," Scotty says in mock disgust, which earns a secretive grin from McCoy.

Chekov raises a brow and innocently says, "Am I missing something?" He shrugs when three pairs of eyes stare at him and mutters something in Russian.

Scotty shakes his head at the boy and turns his attention back to Jim. "I was goin' to come get yeh. Found something of interest in regards to that disturbance," he explains.

Jim feels his stomach clench as he's mid-bite and spits his food back out into a napkin. "What?" he asks, exchanging a glance with Bones. "What is it?"

"One of our Klingon allies has been monitorin' the neutral zone and picked up some currents similar to what brought yeh here a week ago," Scotty says. "It's nothin' concrete, but it's somethin' and we're keeping an eye on it."

Jim nods. "When…" he starts to say, his voice trailing off as he feels Bones' hazel eyes on him, burning into him and seemingly reading his thoughts.

_When will we know for sure?_

_When can I go home?_

_When do I have to leave you?_

"I should know somethin' in a few days," Scotty replies between chewing. He gestures to Bones and Jim with a crude smile. "Yeh two ought to have plenty of time to continue on continuing on."

Chekov is making that face again - the utterly confused one - when it dawns on him. "Oh!" he says, his cheeks turning pink as he peers over the table at the doctor and Jim. "You two… oh! Yo moyo!"

Scotty chuckles because that's Scotty, no matter which universe Jim is in, and gives Jim a wink. "He's a quick study, that one," chirps the Scotsman.

Jim hears Bones snort, trying to hide his amusement as Chekov continues to gawk at the older men with a naiveté that only Chekov could pull off. Jim, on the other hand, feels a sense of dread in his stomach.

He sets his fork down and reaches for the glass of water next to his tray with a trembling hand. The water tastes like lead or maybe it's just the awful feeling that is slowly coiling inside of him. Jim excuses himself and leaves the mess hall in a hurry, his heart pounding, as he goes in search of Pike. He's never been so conflicted in his entire life.

Even in the direst of circumstances, Jim always knows what needs to be done.

With Nero, he knew that he needed to work with Spock as a team, even if it meant compromising his friend.

With Khan, he needed to do what was right and allow the man to have a fair trial. While that situation ended up being incredibly messy and almost ended his life, Jim knew that he did the right thing.

And now…

…and now.

He wants to go home so badly, or at least he did. Now he's not so sure. This place is the polar opposite of where he's from.

Here violence and terror run rampant and no one bats an eye. But there is good left in this reality.

There are people who don't believe in no-win scenarios. They are his people. 

And there is Bones. He thought that this doctor wasn't his Bones and that he belonged to another Jim. It used to be true, but now Bones is _his_ \- the lines between Jim's reality and this one becoming blurred, tangled, and interwoven together. 

Bones was his at their first kiss, not the one on the Enterprise (which Jim would like more than nothing to forget), but the one from the day before as Bones pinned his body between the doctor and the door. Yes, Jim wasn't sure about it and part of him wanted to push the doctor away from him, but as the minutes bled into hours in the doctor's arms, Jim realized that he wanted to stay there.

Whatever there was; that awful, wonderful, undefinable thing that he and Bones (whichever one of them in whatever reality) shared.

He finds Pike near the greenhouse, walking with two technicians who stare at Jim as he approaches. Pike follows their gaze and his eyes darken upon seeing the look on Jim's face. He nods in his direction before excusing himself in a quiet tone and approaching Jim. 

"Where's your jacket?" Pike asks. 

Jim looks down at himself and realizes that he must have left it in the mess hall. He knows that Bones will remember it and probably chastise him when he returns to their quarters. 

"You look like a breeze could blow you over," Pike observes. "What's on your mind?"

"I don't want to go back," Jim blurts out, startling himself as the words materialize.

Pike is silent, though his brow rises in curiosity. Or mirth. Or anger. Something. "What do you mean you don't want to go back?" he asks as he crosses his arms over his chest and stares at Jim.

Jim swallows. "I don't want to leave."

"You mean you don't want to leave McCoy?" Pike counters in the same tone he had when he came into the bar to find Jim sulking, having just lost the _Enterprise_. Pike presses his lips together and the pink flesh practically disappears in his beard. "I can't allow you to make that type of decision."

Jim doesn't expect that. "What?" he squawks, his desperation giving into resentment. "Why the hell not?"

"I simply can't allow it," Pike tells him.

"It's _my_ life!"

Pike sets his jaw tightly as he shakes his head. "It's not your decision. Not in the end, son."

"But it is my decision!" Jim yells, his fists balled. "I was _meant_ to come here, Chris! You know that, I _know_ you do."

"Your fate may have wanted you to come here, but Jim, you are meant to go home. Your home. Your reality," Pike tells him in a stern tone. "This is no place for a man like you."

Jim glares at him. "How do you know what kind of man I am? You have no idea who I am!"

"I know you are a good man who deserves better," Pike says softly. "You deserve to go home and live in a reality that isn't governed by terror."

Jim grits his teeth together, restraining a growl. "What I _deserve_ is to be able to make my own decisions," he snaps. "I deserve to be happy!"

"Oh and being here is going to make you happy?"

"Bones will make me happy," Jim retorts. "He makes me happy."

Pike is skeptical. "He is screwing a ghost, Jim!" Pike shouts uncharacteristically, going for Jim's proverbial jugular. "He's screwing someone who looks like his dead boyfriend for one last hurrah!"

Jim shakes his head as tears sting his eyes. "You don't know that," he says quietly. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"I do," Pike says, his voice softening. "I do know what I'm talking about. You have no idea what they had, Jim, and while you think he's looking at _you_ , he's not. He's looking at the other Jim. You need to realize that before you make a grave mistake and ruin your life. Or get yourself killed."

Jim swallows roughly and averts his eyes, unable to look at Pike because part of him wonders if the man is right. "He sees me," he replies, his voice cracking with emotion. "He does."

Pike grabs him by the shoulders and gives Jim a good shake, scaring the hell out of him. "No, Jim, he doesn't see you!" Pike screams at him. He inhales deeply and settles down, releasing the younger man. "He's seeing a ghost, Jim."

A sob is pressing against his throat and Jim backs away from Pike, his body shaking. "He sees _me_ ," he whispers.

Pike shakes his head. "No, son. He doesn't."

Jim turns on his heel and leaves Pike standing there, his head spinning as he rushes out of the cold and back into the tunnels of the base. The way back to the quarters that he and Bones share is lost to grey matter and the sound of Jim's ragged breathing. When he enters, Bones is in the armchair, gracefully draped over the piece of furniture while holding a borrowed PADD in his hands.

"I wrangled Chekov into helping me take apart the bunks so we don't have to sleep on the floor," Bones tells him without looking up from the screen. "He managed to dig up some bedding that will actually fit, too." 

Jim sees the bed and nearly chokes on his breath. Bones hears it and looks up at him and suddenly Jim feels cold. Freezing really. 

"Hey," Bones says as he slides off the chair, his face etched in concern. "Are you okay?"

Jim shakes his head and holds up his hand. "Don't come near me, okay?" he tells him in an unsteady voice as he makes his way to the head. "Just don't come near me."

The look of genuine confusion on Bones' face shatters Jim's heart into pieces. "Kid," Bones says in that leveled tone he reserves for when Jim is upset, "what happened?"

Instead of answering, Jim ducks into the bathroom and locks the door behind him as panic bubbles to the surface. He is shivering uncontrollably and his limbs feel like ice. Bones is pounding on the door, his voice muffled by metal and machinery, as Jim turns on the shower. 

He doesn't check the temperature of the water because it has to be warmer than he feels right now and stumbles into the stall, a sob escaping his lips. The water is pelting his skin that isn't covered by his clothing, which sticks uncomfortably to his body, and mixes with the tears that fall down his cheeks. He hears someone typing into the keypad outside the bathroom door over the sound of his weeping, sounding as heartbroken as Bones did as he cradled the other Jim's body in his arms.

The other Jim, the one who is dead. Bones' Jim, the real one that he loved and still loves.

Not the one who is still alive and crying in a shower stall. Jim curls into himself, struggling to breathe as his own emotions assault his body and shower water gets into his nose and mouth. The water shuts off and someone is draping a towel over his shoulders. 

"Jesus fuck…" he can hear Bones say angrily as he assesses the situation. "What the hell happened?"

Jim looks up at him, watching as Bones squats down next to the stall. He pulls the towel to him, his fingers wrapping around the edges as he shakes. 

"Kid, you've got to talk to me," Bones tells him worriedly. Jim watches as the doctor reaches over and brushes the wet hair off his forehead. "If this is going to work, you need to talk to me."

Jim crumbles and shakes his head. "It's not going to work…" he chokes out. "It's not. It can't."

"Says _who_?"

"Pike," he whispers, flinching when he hears Bones let loose a string of curses.

Bones looks like he may punch something or someone. "What?" Bones rages, his cheeks turning red. "He doesn't know a fucking thing, kid. He _thinks_ he does, but in reality – whichever one we're in – he's full of shit! How the hell did this even get brought up?"

"I told him I wanted to stay here," Jim whispers. "That I didn't want to leave."

Bones pales, his anger dying down as soon as Jim utters those words. He tilts his head, studying him, before saying, "You told him that?"

Jim nods as tears slip down his cheek. "He said that you're seeing a ghost when you look at me," he tells Bones as he starts to cry. "And that you don't see me, you see him."

"Now that's just a bunch of bullshit!" Bones exclaims.

"Is it though?" Jim counters, sadly. He rests his head against the tiles of the stall and gazes at the doctor. "Is it?"

Bones nods. "Yes," he says with absolute certainty.

"You didn't when we first met," Jim argues.

Bones raises a brow and smirks. "Did you?" he asks bluntly. "How could we not see each other's counterparts?"

Jim knows that Bones is right and closes his eyes as his chin trembles. "I don't want to replace a ghost," he whispers as tears escape through closed lids. 

He wants to add, _because you'll break my heart if I do_ , but decides against it.

When he opens his eyes, he sees Bones staring at him through the tears blurring his vision.

"Jim," Bones sighs.

He lets out a muffled cry when the doctor reaches out and brushes away rivulets of water and tears off his cheek.

"I see _you_. Just you, no one else." 

Jim nods and pulls the towel to his body, shivering. He feels Bones press his lips against his temple and closes his eyes, relaxing into the older man. Bones wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling Jim towards him as he rubs his hand up and down Jim's damp bicep.

They stay like that for a while before Bones whispers into his ear, "Did you really mean it? About not going back."

Jim nods. 

Bones' lips are pressed against his hair and he feels the doctor nodding. "Okay," he says softly with a hint of sadness in his voice. "What about your Bones and your crew?"

"They'll be fine without me," Jim tells him, almost believing himself. "They have Spock. He's a better captain than I could ever be."

"Somehow I doubt that," Bones replies.

"You'd like him," Jim mumbles as he lifts his head off of Bones' shoulder and looks at the doctor. "My Spock. He would drive you insane with his logic, but he means well."

Bones has a skeptical look his face, the image of Spock tarnished by his former captain. "I'll believe it when I see it."

"He saved my life once," Jim whispers, remembering his brush with death and tearing up. He wipes his eyes and swallows. "Bones, what's happening to me?"

"You are confused and worn out," Bones tells him, his lips quirking into a smile. "I think I may have played a large part in the latter."

Jim laughs as he leans his head against the tiles, feeling the cool surface on the back of his head. "Yeah well…can't help that," he replies.

"True," Bones says, "but, kid, listen to me. I'm not going to make a decision for you because you can do that on your own. I just want you to think this through, okay? This is _your_ life that we're talking about and while I want nothing more than for you to stay here…I want to make sure that you are doing it for the right reasons."

Jim shoots him an incredulous look. "You mean hot sex isn't a good enough reason?" he asks with a smirk.

"Kid…" Bones says with a scowl on his face as he shakes his head. "Sometimes you make me want to punch you in the goddamn head. Now that you are back to acting like a juvenile delinquent, do you think you can change into dry clothes?"

Jim does just that without comment, changing into rebel supplied flannel pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, and joining the doctor in bed. 

They don't have sex and given the earlier circumstances, Jim isn't all that surprised.

Instead, the doctor comes up behind Jim, pulling the younger man's body to his, and strokes his hair as they lay there, watching the sun hovering over the horizon. 

"I haven't seen the sun in a long time," Jim finally says.

Bones breath warms Jim's neck as he says, "I bet you've seen a lot of suns."

"But not mine," Jim replies. "I missed it." 

Bones doesn't say anything and allows silence to take over as they stare out the viewport.


	11. Chapter 11

The chime to their quarters rings, jarring them out of sleep. Jim blinks his eyes as the chime continues to ring and groans against the pillow under his head. He can feel the mattress shift as Bones detaches himself from Jim’s body and rolls over to his stomach.

The doctor is burying his head under a pillow as he grumbles, “Turn it off!” 

Jim presses his palm against his eyelid and blearily looks at the chronometer. It’s barely three in the morning and if the rebel base isn’t on fire, Jim may have to kill someone for waking him up. Without a word, Jim gets out of bed and stumbles through the darkness towards the door. His big toe clips the side of a table or chair leg and he curses, hobbling the rest of the way. He hits the control panel with his fist and barks, “What?”  
  
“It’s me.” says Pike over the intercom.  
  
“Go away.” Jim tells him without hesitation.  
  
“Can’t do that, son.” Pike replies, just like his Pike used to do; Same tone, same words, same everything.

A flare of anger rises in Jim’s stomach, the embers slowly churning and igniting. Jim swallows and turns back to see Bones’ silhouette in the Delta Vega moon light. The doctor, as quickly as he was roused from sleep, is dozing once more. The silver light plays across Bones’ slack features – the curve of his eyebrows, the shape of his cheekbones, his parted lips. Bones looks so peaceful in repose that Jim wants nothing more to go crawl back in bed with him. 

Except Pike is now banging on the door with his fists.  
  
Cursing under his breath, Jim decides to go outside into the hallway rather than let what’s bound to be heated exchange between himself and Pike wake up the doctor. He unlocks the door and steps into the hallway. 

It’s not just Pike, but Scotty as well. The Scotsman’s eyes are wide with excitement and he’s holding a PADD in his hand, which illuminates his gloves, giving it a bluish tinges. “Jimmy,” he says with a grin.  
  
Pike gives Jim a once over, taking in his pajama bottoms and t-shirt, and raises a brow. “Bad time?” he asks.  
  
“It’s three in the morning,” Jim snaps as he crosses his arms over his chest. “What do _you_ think?”  
  
Pike is unperturbed. “I wanted to check up on you,” he offers as he shifts his weight. “See if you were alright.”  
  
“I’m fine,” Jim breathes, annoyed.  
  
“We had quite the exchange earlier.”  
  
“We did.”  
  
Scotty looks confused and uncomfortable as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He doesn’t interrupt the exchange between Jim and Pike, probably fearing the older man’s wrath. His Pike could be a brutal son of a bitch when the situation called for it and Jim is sure that this Pike is no different. 

He watches Pike arch a brow, clearly not used to his Jim pushing back. “Did you do this with your Pike?”  
  
“You mean not obey orders?” Jim inquires. “Sometimes.”  
  
Pike shakes his head, letting out a sad laugh. “What did your Pike think about it?”  
  
“He’s dead, so what does it matter?”  
  
Pike’s nostrils flare. “It matters _a lot_ ,” he retorts as the tops of his cheekbones flush with anger.  
  
“Um… sir…” Scotty begins to say in a low voice. He jumps back when Pike whirls around, staring at the Scotsman with his blue-grey eyes. Scotty swallows and holds up the PADD.  
  
Pike lets out a sigh and nods. “Right,” he says, gesturing with an impatient hand for Scotty to speak.  
  
“I was monitorin’ the activity from the ionic disturbance and these readins’ came through about an hour or two ago,” Scotty begins to explain as he shows Jim the data on his PADD. “See ‘er? That’s from when yeh came through a week ago.” 

Jim peers over the PADD to study the data, seeing frequencies, lines, and fluctuating numbers. He glances up at Scotty, who points to the screen. 

“The disturbance is gettin’ stronger, more rapidly than I predicted,” Scotty tells him. “With the data that our Klingon allies have been collectin’ for me, I’d say we have about a two day window to replicate the phenomenon that brought yeh here.”  
  
Jim swallows. “Two days?” he squeaks.  
  
“Aye,” Scotty replies. “It will take us about fifteen hours to arrive at the neutral zone, even with the upgrades I made to the Narada, but we should be able to pull it off, right Chris?”  
  
Jim glances at Pike, who only nods and doesn’t betray anything. He feels anger pulsing through his veins and swallows roughly. “What about allowing me to have a choice?” he asks.  
  
“I’m afraid that this is out of your hands,” Pike replies.  
  
“Why?” Jim hisses as he approaches Pike, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Because you say so and your word is final? Or is it because you already lost one Jim, so you want to make sure that you don’t lose another?”  
  
Pike bats Jim’s finger away from him. “Jim, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. That is the only choice I’m giving you.”  
  
“If you force me to go back, you’re going to lose me too!”  
  
The hard lines on Pike’s face soften. “That is something I am willing to risk if it means that you stay alive.”  
  
“There’s no guarantee that I’ll stay alive in my reality!” Jim shouts, his voice echoing down the hallway, not caring if he wakes up others. “The black is just as unpredictable as this place! You know that!”  
  
Pike nods. “I do.” he answers.  
  
Jim feels his chest heaving as his anger starts to dissipate. “Did I ever occur to you that I don’t want to lose you again?”  
  
“It has, son.” Pike tells him. He rubs the back of his head and lets out a sad laugh. “I am willing to put aside my own feelings to ensure your safety. It’s what your mother and father would have wanted me to do, regardless of which reality you are from.”  
  
“I could help you.” Jim says, desperate. “I could help you fight the Empire. We could make things right.”  
  
Pike sighs as he takes a step forward and clasps the younger man’s shoulders. His grip is firm and real as his fingers tighten around the material of Jim’s shirt. 

Jim swallows back the painful reminder of his Pike doing this gesture more than once, right down to the same sad smile.

He always – _always_ – did this when Jim was being irrational or so incredibly stubborn that not even Bones could talk sense into him. Weathered and worn hands clutching his cadet reds in a way that wasn’t meant to threaten and with that smile. 

“Jim,” Pike says in a low voice, “this isn’t your fight.”  
  
Jim is about to reply when he feels a stinging sensation radiating from his neck, causing his words to die on his tongue. He lets out a cry of surprise and whirls around to see Bones standing behind him in the hallway with a strange look on his face. 

The doctor looks haunted, his eyes bright as he stands there not saying a single word. The lights of the hallway catch on a shiny object in Bones’ hands. Jim realizes that it’s a hypospray, the contents gone and emptied into his body. 

Jim takes a step back and presses a hand to his neck as he realizes what has happened. It’s a harsh feeling that leaves Jim empty and cold. Tears of betrayal burn his eyes as he stumbles in the hallway and gracelessly falls to his hands and knees.

“Bones,” he says pathetically, his surroundings swimming in front of him, framed in darkness. “Why?”  
  
Bones squats down in front of him and eases Jim against the wall. Jim thinks he sees sorrow in the doctor’s eyes, but his vision is starting to falter as the sedative in the hypospray works its way through his system. “I couldn’t let you throw your life away, kid.” he hears Bones say.  
  
“It wasn’t your choice.” Jim grunts as he closes his eyes, feeling tears escaping his eyelids. When he opens his eyes, Bones’ face has become unfocused.  
  
“You deserve better than this,” Bones tells him as Pike mutters something to Scotty in the distance.  
  
He feels the doctor brushing his hair back off his forehead, then cupping his wet cheek. Jim swallows back a sob and shakes his head. He can see Bones’ face clearly again, though he knows that he’ll lose consciousness in a matter of moments. “I could have loved you,” Jim whispers as more tears fall down his cheeks.  
  
“I know,” he hears Bones say in a rough voice. “Please forgive me.”  
  
Jim just cries as the sedative holds him tightly in its grip and pulls him under.

 

* * *

  
“Captain,” he hears Sulu say as he enters the darkened ready room.   
  
Spock looks up from his PADD, brow arched, and nods. “Yes,” he replies curtly. “What is it?”  
  
“We’ve been monitoring activity down on the surface of Delta Vega, in case if Kirk and McCoy had planned to rendezvous with any of the rebel sector,” Sulu explains as he approaches the captain. “A half hour ago our sensors engineer picked up electromagnetic activity that is identical to the transporter beams used to beam Kirk and McCoy off the ship.”  
  
Spock notes that Sulu does not mention Uhura, whose body is floating somewhere in space, and does not comment on the matter. “Where you able to pinpoint where the destination is?” he asks as he scrolls through his PADD, not bothering to look up. 

All this beating around the proverbial bush is putting him in a foul mood.  
  
“Not exactly.” Sulu says.  
  
“Then _why_ are you here?” Spock sighs as he glances up, his dark eyes on the helmsman. He can see Sulu withering under his gaze for a split second.  
  
Sulu straightens his posture because Spock knows that the helmsman recognizes that he’s about to be in deep shit if he doesn’t produce information that is worth the captain’s while. “A few minutes ago, we spotted a ship near Titan.”  
  
“A ship?”  
  
“It’s not one of ours,” Sulu adds. “It’s Romulan.”  
  
Spock stares at Sulu. “Romulan, you say?” He presses his lips together as he rises from his seat.  
  
“Yes sir.” Sulu replies.  
  
“Why didn’t _our friends_ tell us that they would be venturing out here?” asks Spock as he circles around Sulu. 

It is strange that the Romulans hadn’t contacted them, seeing how they were allies to the Empire and both currently in Alpha quadrant, but perhaps they had their own business to attend to. Regardless of the reason, it certainly doesn’t perturb him.

The Romulans, despite their air of fearlessness and violence, are scared of the Empire. After all, the Empire rules the known universe with an iron fist and the Enterprise is its’ enforcer.  
  
Spock hears Sulu clearing his throat, an annoying habit if one were to ask him, before uttering, “It’s the Narada.”  
  
“You must be mistaken.” Spock tells dismissively. Sulu shakes his head as he reaches for the captain’s PADD and begins to type on the screen.  
  
Now normally, Spock would casually take the device and use it to bash in the user’s skull because he does not appreciate others using his things.

Sulu isn’t just some lowly red shirt. Spock watches his body language and the way his face contorts when Sulu finds what he’s looking for. “Here,” Sulu says as he slides the PADD across the smooth surface of the table.  
  
Spock picks up the PADD as he rolls his eyes and looks down at the screen. It’s only there for a moment, but the features are unmistakable; its prawn like shape dripped in black metal and sharp edges - graceless and brutal as it passes by the moon, Titan, before disappearing into warp. Spock is nearly rendered speechless – unfathomable and unusual for a Vulcan.

He grips the edges of the PADD tightly, his anger seething and coursing through his veins. “I thought,” he says through gritted teeth, “that the Narada was destroyed.”  
  
“According to the _USS Endeavor’s_ final transmission to the Imperial Fleet, they had detonated all their phasers onto the Narada and were preparing to charge it. When the rest of our forces arrived, both ships were reduced to spare parts and space dust,” Sulu tells him, even though Spock already knows the story.  
  
The _Enterprise_ had been there first hand to see what was left of both ships…  
  
…so everyone thought.  
  
“The Narada was never destroyed.” Spock says as he sets the PADD down. “And _someone_ lied.”  
  
Sulu is as still as statue, his alabaster skin paling considerably under his superior officer’s scrutiny. It almost looks attractive under the dim lights of the ready room. And Spock needs a new pet. 

“I guarantee that Kirk and McCoy are on that ship,” Spock tells Sulu as he walks to the view port to admire the stars that burn against the darkness of space. 

Kirk is single-minded and not methodical. His actions are spur-of-the-moment and the results are dumb luck. While the younger man may have been hailed as brilliant and cunning at the Academy, Spock knows better.  
  
He is half-Vulcan after all.  
  
And he knows where the Narada is headed.  
  
“I agree, sir,” Sulu says, having found the ability to use his vocal cords once again.  
  
Spock’s lip curls into a half smile. “I know where they are going.”  
  
“Sir?”  
  
“Set a course for the neutral zone, Mr. Sulu.” Spock tells him with delighted malice in his voice. He turns around, his hands clasped behind his back, and adds, “After all, it would be rude to be late to meet our _friends_.”

 

* * *

  
He remembers a fight that he and his Jim had years ago. He doesn’t remember what had caused it, though McCoy suspects it was probably his own temper along with Jim’s bullheadedness, but he does remember the yelling between the two men before McCoy stormed out of their dorm room as he screamed that he wished he never got involved with Jim.   
  
That was his first mistake.  
  
McCoy recalls saying it solely because he knows it will hurt Jim and the doctor has a nasty mean streak when he is pushed beyond his limits. He goes to the nearest bar and nurses two bourbons  before walking around the neighborhoods that surround the Academy campus until his anger died and he feels that he can go back to the room without wanting to tear Jim apart limb by limb. 

When he enters the room, it’s dark and Jim is curled up in bed, seemingly asleep like nothing had happened. McCoy’s ire returns and he grabs a duffle bag, which he fills with clothes and toiletries before leaving the room in a huff.  
  
This was his second mistake.  
  
He stays the night with his friend, Geoffrey, and returns the next day after his classes. As soon as the door slides open, McCoy sees that Jim is still in bed, cocooned in blankets and sheets. 

Figures that the kid would use _any_ excuse to get out of classes. McCoy is itching to make a nasty comment as he drops his duffle bag onto the floor and makes his presence known to the other occupant. 

Usually Jim would start complaining right about now and possibly throw something at the vicinity of McCoy’s head, but today Jim doesn’t budge. 

“You’re a goddamn pain in the ass,” McCoy grumbles as he goes into the bathroom. When he comes back out, Jim is still curled into a tight ball and that’s when the doctor starts becoming concerned.  
  
He walks over to Jim’s side of the bed and sees that Jim is awake. Judging by the puffy, red-rimmed blue eyes, bruised skin, and flushed cheeks it is safe to assume that Jim has been crying since McCoy left the night before. 

As soon as the younger man sees him, the tears start coming again and McCoy hears the hitch in Jim’s breathing. And he feels like the world’s biggest asshole. 

McCoy crawls onto the bed, wrapping his arms around Jim and pulling him close, igniting a series of wet sobs from the younger man.  
  
“I thought you left me,” Jim whispers to him.  
  
McCoy shakes his head. “I would never leave you,” he tells him as he presses his lips to Jim’s sweaty forehead. “I will always come back to you.” 

Weeks after that incident, McCoy felt like shit despite Jim’s assurances that everything was fine.

However, it was nothing in comparison to how he felt right now.  
  
His stomach is roiling as he appears on the transporter pad on board the Narada. He swallows back the bile that threatens to expel itself out of his mouth and sucks in a series of deep breaths. He shifts the dead weight of Jim’s body in his arms and feels the younger man’s head loll against the crevice of his neck, Jim’s hair brushing against his skin.

In the right light, McCoy can see the dried tear tracks that blemish Jim’s cheeks and it makes him feel downright rotten.  
  
“You need any help?” Pike asks as he steps off the pad and is greeted by another rebel. He is looking at McCoy with a concerned expression.  
  
McCoy shakes his head as he carefully steps off the pad, holding Jim close to his chest. The kid doesn’t so much as make a sound as McCoy moves, much less stir as the doctor follows Pike through the Narada towards the brig, where he and Pike had agreed to keep Jim until he woke up. 

The Narada is constructed of dark metal and shadows, typical of Romulan ships. The floor plan is very open, unlike the _Enterprise_ or other Imperial ships, and it doesn’t take long for Pike to lead him to the brig. McCoy sees that there is a bench to lay Jim on. Someone has the common sense to provide neatly folded blanket on top of a pillow and aside from a toilet and sink, the brig is plainly adorn grey room.  
  
“How long until the sedative wears off?” asks Pike, as he types in the access code on a keypad. The glass barricade slides away and stale air leaks out.  
  
McCoy glances down at Jim, whose dark lashes flutter against the tops of his cheekbones as he sleeps. “He should be up and pissed off as all hell in a few hours.” McCoy replies as he walks into the brig. “Can you grab the blanket?” 

Pike nods and rushes ahead of McCoy to pull the blanket off the pillow. He steps aside as McCoy lays Jim down on the bench, adjusting his limp body so that he can rest comfortably. McCoy removes Jim’s jacket and motions to switch items with Pike. He unfolds the blanket and drapes it over Jim’s prone body before rising to his feet, watching the younger man with sad eyes. 

The younger man looks so peaceful in repose, much younger than his years, and for a moment McCoy can picture what this Jim was like before he crossed into this reality.  
  
“We _are_ doing the right thing,” Pike assures the doctor as he folds Jim’s jacket and sets it down on the end of the bench.  
  
McCoy nods. “I know we are,” he replies despondently as he squats down next to Jim.

He meets Pike’s eyes and offers a small smile, which the older man returns. In truth, the doctor feels horrible and the sentiment is manifesting itself in his stomach, causing it to knot and lurch.

He _does_ know that he is doing the right thing – sending Jim home – despite the younger man’s insistence that he wants to stay with the doctor. 

The thing is, McCoy knows that Jim really meant every word he was saying to him in the walls of their quarters as they lay in each other’s arms. 

What’s even worse is that McCoy _wants_ Jim to stay with him. He wants to build a relationship with him and see where it leads, but this place is nowhere for Jim to be. It’s simply not safe and he deserves better than living in a reality where terror reigns supreme.  
  
So he went to Pike when he was sure that Jim was fast asleep and they talked.  
  
And they planned.  
  
And they plotted.  
  
He had laid awake while Jim and Pike had it out in the hallway, waiting for the right moment to slip outside and dose the younger man with the sedative that he confiscated from Boyce’s stash. Part of McCoy wondered if he could really go through with it, but in the end, he had much to Jim’s devastation as well as his own. 

And the worst part – the absolute worst part of all of this – was listening to Jim sobbing as he fell unconscious and the knowledge that his actions had caused the younger man so much grief. 

McCoy runs his fingers through Jim’s unkempt hair, watching as he remains unaware of his surroundings. The doctor leans in so that his lips are next to Jim’s ear and whispers, “If this doesn’t work and we can’t get you home, I promise I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”  
  
“You ready?” Pike asks as McCoy rises to his feet.  
  
McCoy only nods and follows him out of the cell. He watches Pike type into the access code to close the barricade when he laughs.  
  
“What?” asks Pike as he turns his head.  
  
McCoy crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head before saying, “The sad part of all this, is that I could have loved him too.”


	12. Chapter 12

Jim is so fucking livid that he’s about to punch someone in the goddamn head. If it wasn’t for the fact that he’s currently locked inside of the brig, he would do just that. Instead, Jim is perched on the bench that is supposed to be a bed and staring at the far side of his stark grey cell, not saying a word to anyone who dared to come near his confines. 

Even before the sedative wore off and he came to, Jim knew he was on the Narada.

A gut feeling, a sixth sense… whatever it was, it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. 

As soon as he opened his tear crusted eyes, Jim could feel rage pulsing through his veins where the sedative had been, making his skin hot and his fists itch to punch something or someone. It was a familiar feeling, one that he thought he left behind in Iowa.  
  
The feeling only got worse when Jim realized that someone was watching him beyond the unbreakable glass that barricaded him inside the cell. He turned his head and saw Bones standing there, watching (and maybe waiting) for Jim to wake up. 

They stared at each other, hazel eyes locked against cerulean blue. Bones silently pleaded with Jim to understand his actions and just as the doctor was about to say something (probably an apology that Jim didn’t want to hear), the younger man turned over onto his side and curled into a ball so that Bones couldn’t see his face. 

Or the angry tears that coursed down his cheeks.  
  
At some point Bones departs, leaving Jim to silently fume over the unsettling turn of events. 

He is angry that he put his guard down and trusted anyone in this warped reality. He’s angry that he isn’t given a choice to make his own decision. And most of all he’s angry at Bones: for allowing Bones in, for trusting him without question, for…  
  
Jim swallows back that last thought and begins to trace the tip of his finger against the metal wall. He can feel the Narada vibrating as it flies through space and estimates that he was only unconscious for ten hours at most. 

Someone - probably Bones - changed him into the borrowed clothing and boots. A jacket is draped over the bench at the other end from where he sits.

A few yards away is a food tray, whose contents are splattered against the far wall and the glass. Throwing the tray made Jim feel a shade better, but it was only temporary.  
  
He hears footsteps along the metal floors of the Romulan ship and they are coming closer. Jim rolls his eyes in disgust and turns his attention back to the wall as Pike and Bones approach his cell.

He catches the look on Pike’s face as the older man surveys the mess Jim’s made of his cell. “Very mature,” Pike grumbles.  
  
Jim does and says nothing, opting to concentrate on the nonsensical lines his finger is tracing on the wall.  
  
“You nearly gave Chekov a heart attack,” Pike tells him in a stern voice, “and Scotty is going to be none too pleased when he sees that you are making a mess in here.”  
  
Jim decides to stand up and walks over to the turned over tray without a word. He promptly urinates on the piece of metal and when he’s done, flashes Pike a look of defiance as he walks back over to the bench. Jim doesn’t bother looking at Bones, who is probably equally appalled.  
  
“James,” Pike hisses as Jim settles back down on the bench. “Cut this _shit_ out. Right now!” 

He is unperturbed by Pike and just shrugs as he leans against the wall. He figures that he has several more hours left in this hell hole and he may as well pass the time by being as difficult as possible. Any sort of sympathy he has for these people has vanished and he could give two shits about whether they live or die. 

Except for Bones, the bastard. 

“Keep this up, son,” Pike warns, “and I’ll have McCoy go in there and sedate you again.”  
  
Jim turns a cold stare onto Pike and snaps, “Do that and I’ll break his neck before you can get your phaser out.” 

The comment makes both Pike and Bones grimace. Jim said it deliberately, knowing that it would hurt them as much they have hurt him. It’s an eye for an eye and a sign that Jim’s been here far too long.  
  
“Jim,” Bones sighs, “don’t do this. We’re only trying to help you.”  
  
Jim turns his stare onto the doctor and sees the emotion written all over Bones’ face. “By ambushing me?” he asks. “Is that what you do to all the blue-eyed boys you fuck, Bones?”  
  
He watches as Bones’s cheeks flush and grits his teeth together. “Kid,” the doctor growls, “you may not understand this now, but one day you’ll see that we did what is best for you.”  
  
“What’s best for me?” Jim says mockingly as he rises to his feet and stalks over to the glass. He stands in front of Bones and tilts his head. “You have no idea what’s best for me, doctor.”  
  
“You need to go home,” Pike interjects. “It’s where you belong, son.”  
  
Jim laughs. “Where I belong? Do you think that after everything I’ve seen, after seeing all of the people I love acting like _this_ that I will still belong in my own reality?” he asks in all seriousness. There is an edge of hysteria in his voice as the words tumble out of his mouth.  
  
“Then you tell them what happened,” Pike says in a calm voice.  
  
Jim shakes his head. “They will _never_ believe me,” he replies sadly. Tears sting his eyes and he backs away from the glass to pace the cell.  
  
“You don’t give them enough credit, son,” Pike tells him.  
  
Jim snorts. “That’s a bit rich coming from you,” he retorts.  
  
“You just plan on making this difficult, don’t you?” Pike asks him.  
  
Jim nods as he furrows his brows. “It’s going to be a bumpy ride to the neutral zone, Chris,” he hisses. “Better get a pillow.” 

He expects Pike to be pissed, perhaps curse him out through the glass. Instead, the older man surprises him by commanding the computer to drop the barrier and charges into the cell. Jim feels Pike’s fist connect with his jaw and he lurches back onto the bench.

There are spots of white in his vision and his jaw is throbbing in pain, which is expanding through his head. Jim groans as he brings a hand to his jaw, touching the tender skin gingerly.

It takes a moment for him to realize that Pike is looming over him, his face contorted in barely contained rage. “Watch it, son,” Pike warns him, “or I’ll send you back to your reality in a body bag.” 

Something tells him that this Pike means it.  
  
“Keptin! Keptin!” Chekov shouts as he runs over to the cell, cheeks flushed. “We picked up trouble!”  
  
Pike spins around. “Trouble?” he asks, the deadliness suddenly gone from his voice.

“Yes sir,” Chekov tells him. “A Klingon freight ship just reported a sighting of the _Enterprise_. They are about one thousand kilometers behind us and gaining.”  
  
“They must have seen you leaving the system,” Jim says in a low voice.  
  
Pike looks at him like he’s about to throw another punch. “We beamed up to the Narada,” he explains in a curt tone. “There was no way they could have seen us.”  
  
“They could have picked up on the electromagnetic activity from the transporter beam,” Jim tells him as he rubs his jaw.  
  
“He’s right, sir,” Chekov says. “They may not be able to pinpoint the location or destination, but the _Enterprise_ could detect the activity if they were looking for it.”  
  
Pike glances at Chekov. “How far are we from the neutral zone?”  
  
“About another two hours, give or take,” Chekov replies.  
  
Pike nods. “Have you notified our friends on Kronos?”  
  
“Yes sir,” Chekov tells him with a smile. “They will be intercepting us in approximately two hours.”  
  
“Good,” Pike says as he stands up and begins to walk out of the cell. “Tell Monty that we need to go into warp six. I want to try to outrun that Vulcan asshole and get to the neutral zone before there’s something to be worried about. Once we get there, I want to create a blockade and fire everything we got when the _Enterprise_ shows up.”  
  
“You can’t do that,” Jim interjects.  
  
Pike arches a brow. “And why the hell not?”  
  
“My shuttle - the shuttle I came in - is on that ship,” Jim explains to an annoyed Pike. “We have no idea if the coordinates Scotty is going to set are the same as the ones in my reality. If they aren’t, I will need the shuttle to call for help.”  
  
“We can send you back in another shuttle,” Pike says dismissively.  
  
Jim shakes his head. “Because the Federation would respond _so well_ to a _Romulan_ spacecraft,” he tells him in a bitter tone. “I _need_ that shuttle if you want to get me back in one piece.”  
  
Pike contemplates him for a moment before motioning Jim to follow him. “Where’s Monty?” he asks Chekov as they walk through the Narada, Bones and Jim in tow.  
  
“He’s in the engine room, sir,” Chekov replies. He gestures towards a flight of stairs. “This way.”

They follow and find Scotty in the engine room, hunched over a control panel. “Cannae bother me now, Chekov. I’m busy!”  
  
Pike clears his throat and gives the Scotsman a smile when he turns around, apologizing for his rudeness. “At ease,” he says to Scotty.  
  
Scotty nods, casting an apologetic smile towards Jim, and says, “What can I do yeh for?”  
  
“On a scale from one to ten, how accurate would you say it would be to beam Jim back on board _his Enterprise_?” Pike asks.  
  
Scotty frowns and shakes his head. “Honestly, I have no idea. Perhaps…a five at best due to variations between our reality and his. I was countin’ on sendin’ through in a shuttle - preferably the one he came through in. Why?”  
  
Jim snickers under his breath and mutters, “Told you.”  
  
“Why does it need to be _that_ shuttle?” asks Pike, pointedly ignoring Jim.  
  
“For one, it still functioned when it came through. There’s no guarantee that one of ours would be able to withstand the ionic disturbance, let alone still have life support when it makes it onto the other side. Two, wouldn’t it be better to send him back in his own shuttle so no one gets any smart ideas ‘bout tryin’ to come our way?” Scotty tells Pike as he takes off his knit cap and rubs the top of his head.  
  
Jim watches as Pike grumbles under his breath and scratches the back of his head with an irritated look on his face. The older man catches Jim staring at him, to which he just shrugs in the most assholeish way possible. He sees Pike’s brows crease into a frown and is about to open his mouth when Pike beats him to the punch.  
  
“You shut up,” Pike immediately snaps at him as he level a pointed finger at Jim. He turns back to Scotty. “Is it possible to transport the shuttle from the _Enterprise_ to the Narada?”  
  
“Oh… I dunno, Captain. That’s a tall order,” Scotty says. “It’s one thing to transport a person, but a shuttle? I’ve never done it before.”  
  
Jim opens his mouth, but Pike cuts him off again. “What would it take to do it?” he asks, shooting a death glare at Jim.  
  
“No idea,” Scotty admits. “I’m going to have to go over my equations and calculations, plus get some specifications on the shuttle itself - well, the closest specs I can have for a shuttle that’s not even from this reality…”  
  
“It’s a standard transportation shuttle,” Jim interjects. “I saw one that is identical to it at the base on Delta Vega.”  
  
Scotty raises a brow. “Yeh did?” he asks as he pulls out his PADD and begins typing on it. “Show me,” he tells Jim as he hands off the device.  
  
Jim sees a variety of shuttles ranging from the Imperial fleet to the Vulcan Militia. He starts scrolling through them, his eyes growing larger as images pass by. “These are amazing,” he says to Scotty.  
  
“I know!” Scotty says excitedly. “Check out that Orion fighter with the triple photon cannons…”  
  
Pike clears his throat. “Gentlemen,” he tells them.  
  
Jim and Scotty look up at the older man before realizing they are getting off track. Scotty mumbles an apology while Jim remains silent. He narrows his eyes at Pike and briefly glances over at Bones. Jim almost forgot that Bones is even there, standing behind Pike like a phantom.

Their eyes lock, albeit briefly, and Jim is torn between slugging the doctor in the face and kissing him until he can’t breathe. 

He breaks the eye contact first; turning his attention back to the PADD in his hands and continues scrolling through until he finds a shuttle that closely resembles his own.

“This one,” Jim tells Scotty as he hands the PADD back to the Scotsman. “If the stupid tail was gone, it would be just like my shuttle.”  
  
“The tail is for aerodynamics during high solar winds, thank yeh very much, laddie!” Scotty scoffs as he glances down at the PADD. “Oh aye. Now I have something to work with. Chekov! We have work to do!”  
  
Jim watches as Scotty and Chekov scurry off around the corner, leaving him alone with Pike and Bones.

The former gives Jim and Bones a curt nod before wandering off towards the bridge of the Narada. Jim is surprised that Pike makes no mention of throwing him back in the brig (or out an airlock) and instead, passes by him as if Jim has ceased to exist.  
  
“Jim,” Bones says, that drawl snapping him back to reality. “I’m sorry.”  
  
Jim shakes his head. “I don’t want to hear it,” he protests as he begins to walk off.  
  
“I'm sorry,” Bones tells him as he follows. “I am.”  
  
Jim waves him off as he makes a sharp turn towards a flight of stairs. Maybe he can lose the doctor if he climbs up high enough, since this Bones doesn’t seem too fond of heights. 

“It’s really funny because you’re saying it like you mean it,” Jim snaps at him as he grabs onto a ladder.  
  
“Because I _do_ mean it, goddammit!” Bones yells as he grabs onto Jim’s wrist, pulling him off the ladder.  
  
Jim twists his wrist out of Bones’ grip and pushes the doctor back with an angry shove. “Don’t _fucking_ touch _me_!”  
  
“Jesus Christ, kid!” Bones shouts as he stumbles back. He regains his balance just as Jim starts climbing up the ladder. “You have got to kidding me! Jim! Get back down here!”  
  
Jim keeps climbing, feeling the cold metal against his hands as he reaches up for the next step. He can hear the doctor’s grumbles and curses below him, and it gives Jim a measure of satisfaction. The ladder suddenly shakes from additional weight. Jim looks down and, to his surprise, Bones is climbing up the ladder. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Jim calls down.  
  
He sees Bones lift his head and notices the scowl on the doctor’s face. “Since you insist on acting like a stubborn ass, I’m going to follow you until you listen to me.”  
  
A whine escapes Jim’s lips before he can stop himself. He shakes his head and goes back to climbing because at some point, Bones will stop. 

Well, at least he _thinks_ Bones will stop. 

Jim pulls himself up onto the catwalk and glances down to see that Bones is still in pursuit, leaving Jim stunned. His Bones would have never gone up the ladder and would opt to wait for him in his quarters (or solid ground) with a hypospray behind his back because his Bones is a sneaky bastard. The one below him… is just a bastard. 

“Don’t fall,” Jim snaps at him.  
  
“If you slip, I’m not saving you,” he hears Bones retort, which is followed by a string of cursing. 

Jim snorts at the doctor as he walks off, making sure to give Bones the finger as he walks over him. 

“Real mature, kid,” Bones growls as he climbs. “You are so fucking precious!”  
  
Jim leans over the railing and leers. “Tell me something I don’t know,” he replies back before continuing on his way.

As he turns a corner, he vaguely hears Bones swearing up a storm as he ascends the ladder. Soon the sound of the doctor’s voice is a distant memory and all Jim can hear is the Narada as it moves at warp. It’s different this time, Jim thinks to himself as he wanders the catwalk, to be on this ship without Spock at his side or crazed Romulans trying to kill him without a moment’s hesitation. 

The whole situation is so upside down that it makes Jim’s head spin as he finds himself a quiet place to sit on the catwalk that overlooks the ship’s version of a medical bay. He can see a few people walking around, tallying supplies and talking in low voices as they work.  
  
It makes him long for home.  
  
Jim leans his head against a railing, feeling the cool metal pressed against his skin, and closes his eyes. He can feel tears burning against his lids and an unfamiliar dull ache in his chest that he doesn’t want to name. 

As he opens his eyes, he feels a hand griping his shoulder. “You stay right where you are, _shut the fuck up_ , and listen to what I have to say,” Bones growls as he sits next to Jim.

He makes himself comfortable and adds, “then you can run off again. Got it?” Jim doesn’t say anything, doesn’t look at him, and just shrugs his shoulders as he stares at the people below.  
  
“I said got it?” Bones snarls.  
  
“Got it,” Jim echoes, his voice barely above a whisper.

It seems to satisfy the doctor. Not that Jim cares. 

“Normally I would have just waited you out, but something tells me that you plan on staying up here until we reach the neutral zone,” Bones says in a softer drawl. Jim can feel his eyes on him, but checking would mean he has to look at the doctor and acknowledge that he’s really there. 

“Look kid, I am sorry,” Bones tells him. “I just can’t watch you throw your life – your real life – away for something that is so bleak and awful. You don’t deserve staying here. Hell, you didn’t deserve coming here in the first place-”  
  
“Are you saying you wished I never came here?” Jim asks as he begins to pick at his cuticles. An uncomfortable moment of silence passes and Jim forces himself to look at Bones, who is staring right back at him.  
  
Bones shakes his head. “Jim,” he says. That’s all he says.  
  
“Well?” Jim pries. “Is it?”  
  
Bones shrugs. “I don’t know what to think. All I know is that you deserve better than this mess we’re all in and you deserve a life that is happy, long, and not filled with all the bullshit that’s here.”  
  
“You have no idea what I came from,” Jim starts to say before Bones cuts him off with a glare.  
  
“You’re right,” he interjects, “I have no idea what your life is like, but I do know that you were happy and you wanted to go home.”  
  
Jim swallows. “But that changed.”  
  
“But why?”  
  
Jim laughs hollowly and has to break eye contact. “Why?” he practically whispers into the dark. “Because of you.” 

There the sound of Bones’ hitched breath, followed by a period of muteness as the two men sit side by side on the catwalk. 

It’s awful, it’s horrible, and Jim is desperate to break the silence.

He clears his throat as his hands grip the railing in front of him. “Bones,” he begins, “I just have to know… was this a mistake for you?” 

There is more silence and eventually, he turns to Bones, watching the doctor’s face for his reaction.  
  
Bones is poker faced, though his eyes look… troubled, for lack of a better word. “I… I don’t know, kid.”  
  
“Was it?” Jim asks, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Was it a mistake and you never really saw me?”

He reaches for Bones’ hand, covering it with his own as tears blur his vision. “Please… please Bones,” he pleads. “Please tell me.” 

Bones is in a stunned silence, his eyes glistening in the poor lighting of the catwalk, his face half-hidden by shadows as he stares uncomprehendingly at Jim. 

“Please,” Jim whispers gutturally as he closes the gap between him and the doctor. He squeezes Bones’ hand, leaning towards him and planting a kiss against the older man’s jaw, feeling his stubble against his lips. “Bones, please.” 

Jim’s mouth moves hungrily over Bones’ skin until he is mouthing the very end of the doctor’s lips. “Bones,” he manages to choke out as tears escape down his cheeks. When the doctor turns his head ever so slightly, Jim immediately seeks out his mouth, capturing it beneath his own.  
  
There is lips and tongue and the clashing of teeth as Jim kisses Bones within an inch of his life, moaning when the doctor’s tongue – hot and wet – brushes against his own. He can taste the doctor’s mouth and the salt of his tears, both salty and sweet and something that Jim wants more of. Bones’ hand is cupping the back of his head, Jim’s hair caught between his fingers, as he pulls Jim closer to him, groaning. Jim just wants to melt into the doctor and never let him go…  
  
…then Bones pushes him away, panting heavily through swollen lips.  
  
“No,” Bones says with grim determination as Jim opens his eyes. “We can’t do this.”  
  
Jim searches the doctor’s face. “What?” he croaks.  
  
“You’re right,” Bones tells him as he stands up. He looks like he’s teetering on the edge of a breakdown. “I didn’t see you. I saw _my Jim_. I always saw him and I can’t do that to you. It’s not right.”  
  
He knows that those words are lies. Jim can’t explain why, but he just knows. It still doesn’t make it hurt any less or dull the aching in his chest. “But Bones…” he murmurs, holding back a sob.  
  
“I love my Jim,” Bones says, his voice shaking as his hazel eyes pool with tears. “I’m sorry.” 

He leaves Jim sitting on the catwalk along with the space he once occupied empty and cold. Jim sits there, dumbfounded, as his hands grasp the railing so hard that his knuckles turn white. 

He thinks his heart is still beating – aching and heavy – against his chest when the first sob escapes his lips.

It sounds pitiful, mournful, and echoes along the catwalk. Jim swallows as the first of many tears stings his cheeks because he doesn’t want Bones – where ever he is – to hear him cry. A tidal wave of emotion surges forward, gaining momentum as another sob assaults his body.

Jim hangs his head over his lap and weeps, hot torrents of sadness and heart break coursing out of his blue eyes. His emotions, usually held so tightly, burst out of him like a dam and, finally, Jim doesn’t care anymore.  
  
He cries like he did the night that Pike died, once he was alone in his apartment that overlooked downtown San Francisco. It’s the same horrible, anguished filled sobs that left him exhausted and sick to his stomach and unable to catch his breath. 

No one was there for him that night, just like no one is here for him now.  
  
Except someone is, because an arm drapes across Jim’s shoulders, warm and solid, is pulling Jim towards them.

Jim’s vision is too distorted to see who it is, nor does it really matter because he wraps his arms around their waist and buries his head against the hollow of their neck. 

“That’s it, laddie,” he hears Scotty whispering to him from above resting his chin on top of Jim’s head. The weight is reassuring, solid, and almost familiar. “It’s okay. I got yeh.” Scotty holds Jim tighter as the younger man cries. “I got yeh.”


	13. Chapter 13

Spock traces his finger along the sleek lines of the command chair, ignoring the stars that fly past the _Enterprise_ as she barrels through space at warp eight. 

The bridge is both silent and a flurry of activity. Everyone present is working at their stations without comment or question, which Spock finds oddly… disturbing. He runs a tight ship.

That is assumed because he is a half-Vulcan and it is logical. The silence helps him think and push himself beyond his limits.

He fancies himself like a god, but does not say it because it is his secret. There is only one other man who dared to be better than him and that is James Tiberius Kirk.

He is the proverbial day to Spock’s night and he makes his blood boil over with rage.

He’s hated Jim since the moment they met at the Academy.

It was wholly by accident, as Spock was having a meeting with Captain Pike over the adjustments the former made to the Kobayashi Maru. It is an unbeatable simulation, just as he intended. It is to show a no-win scenario to the cadets who partake that one day they will face death and that they must be prepared to die with dignity and for the Federation. 

As Spock showed Pike the schematics of the simulation on his PADD, there was a fevered knock at the door. It slid open before Pike could even acknowledge the cause of it and from where Spock was sitting, he could see the irritated expression on the captain’s face melt away to one of parental affection and mirth.

“Jim,” Pike said with a ghost of a smile on his face.

That was when Spock turned around his seat and saw _him_ for the first time, standing in front of the door with his red cadet cap in hand and an ever so slightly wrinkled cadet uniform (which Spock surmises was from his daily activity rather than negligence to follow the Academy protocols). 

Jim, as Pike called him, had the most startling blue eyes that Spock had ever seen.

They were bluer that blue: azure, cerulean, indigo, cobalt, navy, sapphire. None of these could truly describe the young cadet’s eyes, nor the mischievous glint that they held.

Jim returned the smile before his eyes settled on Spock. The realization that he had interrupted a meeting between Pike and a stranger seemed to register on Jim’s clean shaven face. “I didn’t realize that you had someone in your office,” he replied, his tone casual. “Sir.”

Pike raised a brow and exchanged a look with Spock, who stayed quiet and observed. “Cadet Kirk, this is Mister Spock, one of our instructors in the Xenolinguistics Department,” Pike said mildly. “Mister Spock, Cadet James Tiberius Kirk.”

“You are the son of George and Winona Kirk,” Spock told him. “You must be honored to be following in their footsteps, cadet.”

Jim nodded. “I am,” he replied uncomfortably.

“I detect that the topic of your late parents is an unpleasant one,” Spock stated. “My apologies.”

Jim nodded back, his gaze fixed on Spock. “It’s fine,” he finally told Spock as his fingers brushed against the brim of his cap. “I’m used to it.”

“It does not make any less uncomfortable, cadet,” Spock countered.

Jim shrugged at this, astounding Spock as to why this young man could be acting so cavalier. “Don’t worry about it, man.”

“I have not been aware of your presence in any xenolinguistics classes,” Spock stated, arching one of his brows as he changed the subject.

Jim perked up at this, sending his slouched posture to ramrod straight. “I’m command track,” he announced.

“Cadet Kirk also tested out of the precursory xenolinguistics courses,” Pike added.

Spock watched as Jim flashed the captain a warm smile and found the conduct to border on unprofessional. “Is that so?” Spock inquired casually. “That is quite impressive, cadet.”

“Thanks,” Jim told him before his eyes fell on the PADD sitting between Spock and Pike. “What’s that?”

“It is private business between myself and Captain Pike,” Spock explained in a neutral tone as his hand inched over the PADD’s screen.

It was Jim’s turn to raise a brow, something that truly annoyed Spock. The cadet didn’t say anything to Spock and, instead, turned his attention to Pike. “I just wanted to see if we were still meeting for dinner tomorrow evening,” he said.

“Couldn’t have just commed me to ask?” Pike replied.

“I _could have_ ,” he said with an impish smile, “but I’m heading to my diplomacy lecture and your office is on the way.”

Pike chuckled and it appalled Spock. The man was being too lenient on the cadet, especially in light of such unbecoming behavior. Spock was about to reprimand Jim when Pike spoke. “The answer is yes,” he replied to Jim. “With Leonard be coming with you?”

“He sounds like an old man when you said Leonard,” Jim argued as he wrinkled his nose.

Pike sighed. “I take that as a yes,” he said as he went back to the PADD on his desk. “See you both at six.”

Spock watched as Jim nodded at Pike, who waved him off dismissively, and as the cadet put his cap back on his head.

“Mister Spock,” Jim acknowledged.

Spock nodded. “Cadet.”

He watched as Jim disappeared and listened to his footsteps as he hurried away from Pike’s office. Spock turned back to the captain and cleared his throat. “Captain,” he said.

“Yes?”

“It is troublesome that Cadet Kirk does not adhere to Academy protocol when speaking to you,” Spock stated.

Pike peered over the frames of his thin rimmed glasses. “Troublesome?”

“Yes captain,” Spock replied. “Cadet Kirk seems to believe that his relationship with you allows liberties that other cadets are not afforded.”

Pike looked amused, which shocked Spock. “Liberties?” he asked with a smile.

“Yes sir. I found his behavior to be unbecoming in a cadet, especially one in the command track,” Spock explained. “Perhaps he should be instructed to reread the charter on cadet behavior.”

Pike chuckled at Spock. “Cadet Kirk is one of our top performing students in the command track, Mister Spock. He is a hard and dedicated worker. While he is unorthodox, I do not find his behavior unbecoming. A little too personal in front of an instructor, yes, but we are in the privacy of my office.”

“It does not bother you,” Spock said.

Pike shook his head. “No, it does not,” he replied back. He tilted his head and studied Spock. “Does Cadet Kirk’s behavior offend you, Mister Spock?”

“I would only be offended if it displeased you.”

Pike seemed to accept this answer. “Fair enough,” he said before turning his attention back to the PADD. “Now, explain the scenario for Level Five?” 

He did and in great detail so that Pike could understand the nature of the simulation. However, in the back of Spock’s mind, the impression left by Jim Kirk irritated his psyche like a rash or insect bite. 

When he arrived home later that day, Spock took it upon himself to study up on this cadet’s record. His academics were impressive and Spock felt comfortable admitting as much. He noticed that Jim was taking additional courses, though he was uncertain as to why this had occurred.

Perhaps Jim wanted to show off or had something to prove. Spock decided it was a combination of both before he stopped what he was doing to go meditate. Soon, Spock all but forgot about Jim until that fateful day that the cadet beat the Kobayashi Maru.

He had been on the observation deck with Pike when it happened and he could not help but allow his mouth to fall open for a millisecond in pure shock. The news spread like wild fire and seeing Jim Kirk’s rascally smile plastered all over his face as he strolled through campus made Spock’s blood roar. 

And he had no idea how Jim managed to do it.

Spock spent days going over the holovid of the simulation as well as his schematics and calculations to no avail. It made him beyond incensed. Spock told Pike that Jim must have cheated.

“Are you sure about that?” Pike had asked him.

Spock set his lips in a hard line. “I cannot be certain, but it is the only explanation.”

“Well Mister Spock, I need proof before I can do anything about your accusation.”

“You are aware that I designed the Kobayashi Maru simulation to be unbeatable,” Spock explained as he kept his anger in check. “You have viewed the calculations that dictate the…”

Pike cut him off with a stern look. “I understand what you are saying, Mister Spock, and I respect your dedication to ensure that all cadets who participate in the Kobayashi Maru play by the rules,” he said. “Unfortunately, there is no proof that Cadet Kirk cheated. Unless you find some, there is not much I can do.”

“The Kobayashi Maru is streamlined and realistic, sir. It is a textbook example of a no win scenario.”

“That is where your problem lies, Mister Spock.”

Spock was confused by this. “I do not understand, sir.”

“You will once you have gone out to the black,” Pike explained to him with a friendly and assuring smile. “There are no textbook examples out there and people need to work outside of the box.”

It was then that Spock realized that James T. Kirk, son of George, son of Winona, had bested him and he hated Jim with every fiber of his being. 

He never allowed it to happen again.

When Pike promoted Jim over him, he made sure that the advancement didn’t last long. Perhaps watching the destruction of his home and witnessing the death of his beloved mother made Spock lose his mind. He liked to think that these events opened his mind to other possibilities, including murdering Jim in cold blood as his lover watched. 

The moment that Jim’s pulse sputtered out and ceased under his fingertips was the single most awe-inspiring moment of Spock’s life.

And now…

…Jim had bested him once again.

At least Spock had learned from experience this time around. 

Jim would die once more, grossly, painfully, and magnificently. He cannot wait to relish the moment Jim begs for death nor wait to hear McCoy’s screams ringing in his ears. 

He will kill the doctor too because while McCoy is brilliant, he is replaceable.

“Sir,” he hears Sulu say. “They’re within range.”

Spock looks up at the viewscreen with a ghost of a smile on his lips and feels the warmth of victory spread through his body. 

 _Yes,_ he thinks to himself, _I will win._

“Shoot them out of warp.”

 

* * *

  
McCoy stands on the Narada’s bridge, his arms crossed over his chest, listening as Pike confers with Chekov in hushed voices over the latter’s PADD.

There is Pike’s deep baritone asking questions or making comments, followed by Chekov’s younger, accented voice replying or pointing out something that the older man may have missed. 

Regardless, they are just white noise and McCoy isn’t really listening to them… or anyone for that matter. His attention is focused elsewhere - out of his line of sight, though it was so palpable that it could be standing right next to him.

McCoy pulls his arms tighter to his body as his thoughts drift to Jim. McCoy can still hear the ragged, broken pleas in his ears, ringing and pulsing in his brain until he has the close his eyes, only to see Jim’s heartbroken expression and him whispering his nickname through those full lips. It slips from the pink flesh like a sob.  
  
And McCoy hates himself.  
  
He hates himself for many things, most of which have to do with Jim – the both of them. His life has revolved that charismatic blue-eyed boy from Iowa for so many years and McCoy reckons that it never stop (not that he wants it to). 

But what he has done to the Jim that is somewhere on this ship makes him downright sick to his stomach. He could go look for him – the last he heard of Jim’s whereabouts was from a quiet comment made by Chekov to Pike, who only nodded (“He’s with Monty, Keptin.”) – and tell him the truth, but McCoy wonders what good that would do. 

McCoy decides that he’s a coward at that very moment and he deserves his heart ache.  
  
“Doing okay, son?”  
  
McCoy looks up and sees Pike casting a glance in his direction. “Right as rain,” he rumbles as Pike joins him.  
  
The older man crosses his arms over his chest and glimpses towards the direction of where Scotty and Jim are, his expression looking like he’s a million miles away. “Having second thoughts?” he finally asks, though McCoy knows it’s not really a question.  
  
“It’s for the best,” McCoy says robotically. “We decided.”  
  
Pike nods at this, though he doesn’t look too convinced. He raises a brow and his eyes are silently questioning McCoy. 

It makes the doctor uncomfortable because Christopher Pike always had this gift of seeing through bullshit. It wasn’t a particular expression – just _something_ that was so uncanny and uncomfortable that it made even the most stubborn people (that being their Jim) start talking. It always amused McCoy when Pike did it to Jim because very few people could truly unnerve him. 

And now Pike is doing it to him.  
  
“What?” McCoy snaps.  
  
Pike shifts his weight from one side of his body to the other, his eyes still trained on the doctor. “We’re arriving in the neutral zone in less than thirty minutes,” he tells McCoy. 

The doctor feels like the rug has been pulled out from under him. Circumstances have forced him and Jim to be inseparable and it seemed for a while that McCoy had all the time in the world to deal with the repercussions. 

And now it’s trickling down to mere minutes. 

“This is your last chance to talk to him and say what you need to say,” Pike says softly as he clasps a hand over McCoy’s shoulder, “put this right.”  
  
McCoy stiffly bows his head in acknowledgement. “Where’s that crazed Scotsman?” he asks. “I overheard Chekov mention that Jim was with him.”  
  
“He’s in the engine room where we left him,” Pike replies, removing his hand from McCoy’s shoulder with a gentle squeeze.  
  
McCoy makes his way to the engine room, his heart hammering against his chest with each step. His palms sweat as he quietly mutters what he will say to Jim. 

As he nears the engine room, he can hear Scotty’s voice booming as he talks animatedly about god knows what. It seems that he’s trying to make up for the lack of participation on Jim’s part because McCoy does not hear the younger man’s voice. “Wait a tick, laddie,” he hears Scotty say as a chair slides against the metal floor. “I hear someone comin’. Yeh just stay put.” 

Before McCoy can react, he sees Scotty gawking at him. There isn’t an ounce of malice on the Scotsman’s face – a small relief.

In fact, he looks sympathetic to the plight of both Jim _and_ the doctor. He takes another step forward, pausing to craning his head to make sure that Jim is where ever he is. “I was wonderin’ when yeh would come,” Scotty whispers.  
  
McCoy swallows. “How is he?” Scotty opens his mouth to reply, then shuts it quickly. He just shakes his head, his slate blue eyes filled with sadness. 

It’s not words, but it’s enough of an answer.

McCoy feels like someone has punched him in the gut and he lets out a sigh. “Shit,” he says under his breath. It’s far from eloquent, but it’s the only thing that McCoy can utter without his voice cracking.  
  
“Look, laddie,” Scotty starts, “I know that Pike is gun-ho on havin’ Jimmy here return to his own reality and while it may seem like what’s best, yeh both need to ask yehselves what yeh want.” He pulls off his knit cap, exposing his thinning strawberry blonde hair and scratches the back of his head. “From where I’m standin’, it looks like yeh both want to the same thing.” 

McCoy nods, knowing what Scotty is inferring, that he _and_ Jim want the latter to stay. 

“Yeh lied to him,” Scotty says. He must see the expression on McCoy’s face because he starts to speak again. “I found him, probably not long after yeh left him up on the catwalk. That lad was a right mess, I’ll tell yeh, but yeh probably already know that.”  
  
McCoy swallows down the lump forming in his throat. He nods again and absolutely hates that Scotty is right.  
  
“Well,” Scotty sighs. “I won’t keep yeh any longer. He’s ‘round the bend.” Scotty steps out of the doctor’s way and watches him as McCoy stays glued to the stop. “Yeh look like yeh may throw up.”  
  
McCoy shrugs before taking a step forward, his legs shaking from fear. He finds himself bridging the distance between Jim and himself, whose backside comes into view – slumped shoulders and head bowed. 

Jim must hear him – or someone – coming because he lifts his head and his posture straightens. Soon a pair of confused blue eyes are on McCoy and they quickly flicker. The doctor can see the anger and heartbreak quickly surge forth. 

“Please,” McCoy says, despairing.  
  
_Please don’t run._  
  
_Please listen to me._  
  
_Please don’t leave me._  
  
The muscles in Jim’s throat move as he swallows. It’s the only movement from the younger man and a sign to McCoy that he is willing to listen to the doctor. 

“We’re close to the neutral zone and I just had to come tell you this before it’s too late and you’re already gone,” he says quickly. “I lied to you… on the catwalk. I lied to you when I told you that _this_ was a mistake. I used to see him, but now I only see you.” 

He hears Jim’s breath hitch in his throat; part disbelieving, part relief. McCoy takes another step forward, close enough to touch him, which he does, and pulls Jim into his embrace.

He wraps his arms around Jim’s warm body and lets the feeling of the younger man pressed against him sink in. “I know I should make you go back because you don’t deserve this, but you need to know that I think I'm falling in love with you.” 

He pulls back to see Jim’s face, which is flushed with emotion. His eyes are glistening with tears at McCoy’s admission. His lips are trembling and it’s both so breathtakingly beautiful and heartbreaking that McCoy can’t _not_ look.  
  
Jim is about to say something, the Narada lurches violently, knocking both men off their feet. McCoy thinks he hears an explosion as his body collides with the ground, sliding as the ship tilts on its side. 

As his body falls, McCoy realizes that the Narada has been shot out of warp.


	14. Chapter 14

Jim is free falling. He’s done it before – once on the Narada (and the sense of irony doesn’t pass him by) and once on his _Enterprise_ as she tumbled through space and stars. 

Time seemed to slow down during both events as his life flashed before his eyes as he scrambled to latch onto a solid object. The first time, Jim thought of trivial things because he never had any true sense of family until Bones came along. The second time as he and Scotty plummeted through the hallways of the _Enterprise_ , his mind went right to Bones and he kept thinking about how the doctor was going to kill him if they lived through this disaster. 

Now Jim doesn’t have time. He can’t even let out a shout, a scream, or even a curse as his equilibrium is pulled away from him and he’s plummeting through the ship. Until someone grabs him by the wrist, the bones pulling and popping from the strain. Jim latches - desperately - onto them, the blunt edges of his fingernails digging into their skin, probably drawing blood.

A man grunts and swears, their voice accented and deep. “I got you, kid,” he hears Bones tell him as his other hand grabs Jim’s. “I got you.” 

Jim glances up because he doesn’t want to look down and sees Bones above him, his features strained, teeth gritted together, and sweat collecting at his brow. The doctor’s body is braced against a railing while Jim is dangling over a vast black hole that leads to the Narada’s bowels. 

When the ship lurches again, Jim kicks his legs and a terrified shout falls from his lips. Or maybe he swears – he can’t tell. Bones’ grip tightens. 

The ship lurches, pulling back as someone steadies it. The Narada whines and rumbles from the sudden movement.

There is shouting from others and as Bones pulls Jim over the partition, he can hear Pike’s voice booming through the ship. “Casualties?” 

Various rebels start reporting in, their shouts echoing all around Jim as Bones wraps his arms around his trembling body and holds Jim to his chest. “Shh,” Bones says, low and soothing. “I’ve got you, Jim. It’s okay.” 

He buries his head in the hollow of Bones’ neck and slows his breathing, his fingers twining themselves around the material of the doctor’s shirt. His eyes are closed, trying to control the tears that are welling up behind closed lids.

“McCoy!” Scotty shouts before Jim hears him running. “Jim! Yeh two still alive?”

He hears Bones snorting, then his voice calling back in a thick drawl. “Yeah,” he says as he rubs Jim’s temple with his thumb, “we’re still alive.”

“Jesus!” Scotty says. He’s in close proximity, if not right next to them, judging by his voice. And someone is with him. “How the hell did yeh both end up over ‘ere?”

He can feel the doctor’s body tense. “Gravity,” Bones snarls.

Jim pops his head up and surveys his surroundings to find that he and Bones ended up on a catwalk several hundred yards away from the engine room. He peers over the side and sees nothing, but darkness below them. Jim turns to Bones and says in a hoarse voice, “Nice catch.” 

Bones shrugs before helping Jim to his feet and holds onto his elbows as Jim wavers for a moment. Jim glances up to see those hazel eyes on him, watching his every movement to make sure that he’s okay, and he can’t help but smile. Bones smiles back, the movement reaching his eyes, and gives his arms a comforting squeeze that seems to say everything and nothing at the same time.

“Did yeh almost go over the edge?” Scotty asks in awe.

Jim nods. “What happened?” he asks.

“The _Enterprise_ shot us out of warp,” Scotty says as he motions to Jim and Bones to follow him. “We nearly collided with one of our Klingon friends, scraped up the underbelly.” 

The Narada whines and the lights flicker before powering up again. Jim looks to Scotty, who grimaces. 

“And apparently hit one of the main power compartments,” Scotty adds in a quiet voice. “Come on!”

They rush to the bridge, where Pike is hovering over one of the rebels in the pilot’s seat. “How the hell did they catch up so fast?” Pike barks. “And why didn’t our sensors pick it up?”

“I was _trying_ to tell you that they were gaining,” snaps the rebel.

Pike has a sharp retort on his tongue, but he stops when he sees that Jim is standing at the edge of the bridge with Bones by his side. His expression is unreadable and for once, Jim finds that he doesn’t give two shits of what Pike - this one or his own - thinks. “You two okay?” Pike asks, more to Bones than to Jim.

Jim catches Bones nodding as he feels calloused fingers brushing against his. “Yeah,” Bones says as his fingers intertwine with Jim’s. “We’re fine.”

Pike looks at their hands and quirks a brow, but says nothing else on the matter. “Monty,” he says.

“Aye?”

“Chekov is down in engineering to check the damage,” Pike tells him. “Go down there and comm me once you two determine how bad it is.”

Scotty nods his head and dashes off.

“We’re being hailed,” says another rebel as she spins around in her chair. “It’s the Klingons.”

Pike nods. “Onscreen,” he orders. “Any word from the _Enterprise_?”

“No sir,” she replies as she patches the Klingons through. “They are just hovering a mile off port.”

Pike presses his lips together. “What’s their status?”

“Shields are up,” she says after glancing at her console. “Other than that, nothing.”

Pike swears under his breath. “Put Tre'gok on screen,” he orders as he turns towards the view screen.

A male Klingon appears on screen – dark skinned and light eyed. Jim sees a scar down his cheek and one over the ridges of his forehead. “Pike,” Tre’gok says in greeting, his voice low and rumbling.

“Tre’gok,” Pike replies with a phantom grin. “Fancy seeing you here.”

The Klingon laughs, his yellowed teeth blaring. “I was taking my ship for an evening cruise,” he tells Pike with a grin. “We came just as your vessel was shot out of warp. Would you like us to fire upon the Imperial vessel? I’d be more than honored to.”

“Not quite yet,” Pike says as Scotty and Chekov shout from a distance.

Everyone on the bridge turns their heads towards the two men’s direction to see them approaching at breakneck speed. Chekov is ahead of the Scotsman, waving his arms frantically as he nearly crashed into a console. “Keptin!” Chekov pants as he leans on the console. “Keptin…”

Scotty is doubled over, his hands on his knees as he sucks in a breath. “Bastards hit one of the main power sources!” he exclaims with a shake of his fist.

“And?” Pike asks, arching a brow.

Jim watches as the Klingon on screen looks intrigued by the display before him because if the circumstances weren’t so dire, the situation would be like a bad comedy.

He observes the Klingon’s eyes wandering from person to person until his gaze falls on Jim. The Klingon tilts his head, studying Jim who is looking right back at him.

“I can repair it, but it will take a tick!” Scotty replies. “But forget beamin’ that shuttle over ‘ere. It’s not happenin’!”

Jim breaks eye contact with the Klingon as soon as the words come out of Scotty’s mouth and is staring at him in disbelief.

“What do you mean it’s not happening?” Pike growls.

Scotty straightens his posture. “It’s not happenin’, captain! Not before the disturbance disappears and he’s –” he shouts gesturing in Jim’s direction, “- is stuck here for the rest of his bloody life!”

Jim sees Pike looking at him, albeit briefly, turning back to Scotty. There is something in those familiar features that Jim’s only seen once before, when he falsified his report about Nibiru. Disappointment. He squeezes Bones’, trying to maintain a grip on reality as Pike opens his mouth to address the Scotsman.

“Well make it happen!” Pike orders, his voice rising an octave.

Scotty holds his ground. “It’s not so simple, captain,” Scotty brogues angrily. “I cannae flip a switch and – PRESTO – the bloody ship works again!”

“Then figure out how we get _him_ , “ Pike growls, pointing a finger at Jim, “back on that fucking shuttle before the window closes!”

Scotty juts out his lower lip and scowls before looking at Jim, his eyes apologetic. “There’s one way, but yeh won’t like it.”

“Try me,” Pike snaps.

Scotty swallows. “We beam the lad on board the ship,” he replies in a quiet voice.

“No!” Bones immediately shouts, letting go of Jim’s hand. “Are you _insane_? They’ll kill him if they see him anywhere near that ship, much less on it!”

“We need to get him home,” Pike replies in a leveled voice.

Bones shakes his head. “You won’t get him home if you send him to his death.”

“We have the coordinates of the shuttle bay,” Chekov says. “Perhaps we beam him in…”

Jim scoffs. “Spock will be expecting it,” he tells Chekov. He gives the kid a smile. “He’s half-Vulcan – all he knows is logic.”

“Ah,” says an unfamiliar voice from behind them. It’s Tre'gok, seemingly forgotten in the chaos unfolding on the bridge. “This is the young one you told me about.”

Pike nods.

“He looks like your Jim Kirk,” Tre'gok observes.

Jim is about to ask how the Klingon knows who he is when he hears Pike say, “He’s _nothing_ like my Jim Kirk.” 

Those words hurt more than they should and Jim knows it. This isn’t his Christopher Pike and he’s not his Jim Kirk, but hearing the disappointment in that voice still pains him.

The Klingon notices this, judging by the inquisitive look in his eyes. “You,” he says, addressing Jim, “know of this man? The captain of the _Enterprise_.”

“I know of him,” Jim says carefully. “I know his counterpart.”

“You know his counterpart. You say that like you _truly_ know him,” the Klingon replies with a hint of anger in his voice. “Men like _them_ have no honor, Jim Kirk.”

Jim feel anger starting to pulse through his veins as he lets go of Bones’ hand and takes a step towards the viewscreen. “His counterpart – _my friend_ – is _nothing_ like the captain,” he says with venom. “He is loyal and honorable.”

“Is that so?” 

Jim only nods and watches as Tre'gok stares back at him. 

“You have fight, Jim Kirk,” he says before looking at Pike. “Was your Jim like this one?” 

Pike says nothing, not that Jim expects him to. 

“Interesting,” Tre'gok adds. “You want to send him back – yet his mind is sharp and calculating. We need more like him.”

“It’s not up for discussion,” Pike answers suddenly. “He is going back so long as we have the window of opportunity.”

Tre'gok pinches his lips together. “And if you miss it?”

“We’ll make do,” Pike tells the Klingon. He briefly glances at Jim with the same expression he recalls from the bar – hours before _his_ Pike’s death. 

_It’s going to be all right, son._

Jim swallows back the lump in his throat as those words echo in his head. “What do you suggest we do?” he finally asks, turning towards Scotty.

“That shuttle yeh flew in with…do yeh know where it is on the ship?” Scotty asks.

Jim nods. “It’s in the Shuttle Bay where I left it when I flew in,” he explains. “Why?”

“Just a tick!” Scotty chirps as he grabs the PADD that Chekov is holding out of the youngster’s hands. “Yeh’d think that the _Empire_ would have better security ‘round their records. They make it so easy to find blueprints…” After a moment, Scotty flashes the screen at Jim. “Does this look ‘bout right?”

Jim peers over the screen and sees the blueprints to the _Enterprise_ – identical in every way to his ship. “Yeah,” he practically whispers. “What are you thinking?”

“We have enough power to beam yeh onto the ship and since I know a specific location, I can get yeh as close as possible to the shuttle so yeh can fly it out of ‘ere. Since we have our Klingon friend here, they can help cover yeh when the _Enterprise_ starts firin’ at yeh, which they will,” Scotty explains. He glances at Pike. “With yeh permission, of course.”

Pike turns to Tre'gok. “What do you think about it?”

“Sounds like an excellent plan,” Tre'gok replies with a grin that makes Jim uncomfortable. “Especially if we destroy the ship.”

Jim sees Pike rolling his eyes. “You can do whatever you want with the ship, but make sure that _he’s_ off it first,” he says, tilting his head towards Jim. “I mean it Tre'gok.”

“Understood,” the Klingon replies.

Scotty pipes up again. “Remember, captain, we’ll need an explosion to detonate the disturbance. It’s what got the lad ‘ere in the first place.”

“So we destroy the _Enterprise_ ,” Pike says offhandedly. “They’re in range of the disturbance – might as well let them serve a greater purpose.”

Jim is about to protest when he sees Bones stepping in Pike’s way. “Are you insane!” he barks. “You’re sending him over there by himself! It’s like sending a lamb to the slaughterhouse, Chris. What the hell is wrong with you?”

Pike is unmoved. “He won’t be going alone,” he announces. “ _You’re_ going with him.”

“What?” Jim croaks in disbelief as Bones goes abnormally silent.

Pike looks at him, then Bones. “You two want to be together – that’s fine,” Pike says in a leveled tone, “but you’re not doing it here. You’re going back with Jim.”

“To his reality?”

“Yes,” Pike answers. “Unless if you feel otherwise, doctor.”

Jim exchanges a heat stare with Bones, who looks just as bewildered as him. How he’s going to explain this to his crew – _and_ to Bones – he has no idea. 

“No,” Bones says, his voice as clear as a bell that cuts into Jim’s thoughts. He gives Jim a lazy grin. “It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” Jim asks hoarsely. Panic fills his chest immediately after the words leave his mouth and he realizes that he wants Bones to come with him – more than anything, consequences be damned.

Bones nods in reply. “I’m sure,” he tells him and it’s as if he’s saying, _I’m sure about you._

“Touching,” Tre'gok grumbles, breaking up the moment. He sounds bored. “Now when can I slaughter some Imperial lambs?”

 

* * *

  
When all is said and done, the plan seems solid enough for McCoy’s comfort… for someone who is beaming on board an enemy ship and stealing back a shuttle. 

“This is insane,” he mutters to Jim, who is glued to his side. He hears the kid chuckling – an honest to goodness chuckle – and while part of him wants to smack him upside the head, McCoy is glad that Jim is able to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. “I’m glad you think it’s funny.”  
  
Jim shrugs with an impish grin. “Among other things,” he replies.  
  
“Yeh two have exactly thirty seconds before the shuttle bay doors open once the leveler is activated,” Scotty tells them as he glances in their direction. “Try to secure the area as much as possible before that happens. Don’t want yeh gettin’ sucked out into the black.”  
  
McCoy raises a brow. “Secure the area?”  
  
“Tre’gok will be firin’ on the ship, so they will probably have most of the personnel handlin’ that,” the Scotsman explains. “But if they got anyone down ‘ere…yeh know what to do.”  
  
The doctor knows that Scotty means that he and Jim should kill anyone who gets in their way. They have one shot at this and he’ll be damned if he screws up Jim’s only chance at going home. “What if we aren’t able to make it to the disturbance in time?” he asks.  
  
“Try not to get yehselves killed and fly back ‘ere,” Scotty tells him as he casts a glance at Pike, who nods in agreement.  
  
Pike clears his throat. “We’ll figure out what to do _if_ that happens,” he adds as he walks towards the front of the bridge. “Knowing you two – I think we’ll be fine.”  
  
“Says you,” Jim grumbles under his breath, his blue eyes darkening in fury.  
  
McCoy wants to reach out and do something to ease the discomfort that the younger man is feeling. It’s strange to see the tension between Pike and Jim.  
  
They barely interact with each other. There are stolen glances and indirect communication – a far cry from a few days ago.  
  
McCoy wonders if this is Pike’s method of self-preservation because this Jim is leaving, taking McCoy with him. He can’t truly imagine what it’s like for Pike to lose Jim twice, much less have the one last person that tethers their Jim’s memory to reality leave as well. 

Pike catches McCoy looking at him, probably wondering what the doctor is seeing. “A moment?” he asks, his tone making it obvious that it’s not a request.  
  
He lets out a sigh and goes to follow Pike who is leaving the bridge when Jim’s hand clasps his bicep, stopping McCoy in his tracks. “You’re not his puppet,” Jim tells him in a low voice.  
  
McCoy looks into those blue eyes and nods. “I know,” he replies. “I’ll be right back.”

He gives Jim a smile that’s meant to be comforting before he leaves the bridge, finding Pike pacing near a staircase leading to one of the upper levels.  
  
Pike looks troubled when he finally realizes that McCoy is standing there. “I’ve seen a lot of shit, Leonard,” he says. “Shit you wouldn’t even believe, but _this_ takes the cake.” He begins pacing again, his footsteps slapping against the floor. “I’m sending you away to god knows where. What would _he_ say about this? Do you have any idea?”  
  
The realization that Pike is talking about their Jim makes McCoy hold his breath for a moment. “Jim would want me to be happy,” he finally answers.  
  
“He was a selfless son of a bitch,” Pike practically snarls. His eyes are bright with anger, hurt, and confusion and there is nothing McCoy can do to alleviate it. 

McCoy shrugs in agreement. 

“Are you sure about this?” Pike asks, his temper dwindling. “Are you sure about him?”  
  
McCoy nods immediately. “I know that you think I want a second chance at something I lost,” McCoy tells him.  
  
“Isn’t it?”  
  
McCoy shakes his head. “Not really. No.”  
  
He watches Pike sigh heavily, defeated as he reaches into his pocket. McCoy sees the flash of carbon and realizes that it’s a photon grenade. For a brief, shuddering moment he thinks that Pike is going to activate the device and blow them all to kingdom come. 

“I want you to take this,” Pike says, handing him the grenade, looking as certain as ever. “If we fail to detonate the explosion you two need to get through, you use this. It will be enough, plus with the added bonus of destroying the _Enterprise_.”  
  
McCoy stares at the grenade in his hand, dumbfounded.  
  
“Leonard,” Pike says sharply as he places a hand on the doctor’s shoulder. “We are running out of time. Jim is running out of time.”  
  
McCoy looks up, swallowing roughly. “Okay,” he whispers, his voice catching on the sudden dryness of his throat. He nods. “I’ll do it.”  
  
Pike is content with his answer and nods. “Do you know how to use one of those?” he asks.  
  
“Just press the button and throw it,” McCoy answers, receiving another nod from Pike.  
  
Pike squeezes his shoulder one last time before his hand slides off. “Well…” he begins to say. “Let’s get going.”  
  
McCoy pockets the grenade and goes to collect Jim, who is being handed a comm and a phaser by a unusually quiet Chekov.  
  
“Hey,” he hears Jim say. “It’s going to be fine.”  
  
Chekov shrugs at this before turning to McCoy. “Doktor, you’ll need these,” he tells McCoy as he holds up a comm and a phaser for the taking. “In case if you encounter trouble.”  
  
“Trouble follows _him_ ,” he says, gesturing to Jim who scoffs, “everywhere, kid.”  
  
It rouses a grin from Chekov as he hands McCoy the items in his hands. “Good luck, doktor. Jim,” he says as Scotty comes up and motions for them to follow him to the transporter room.

The walk to the transporter room is quiet as he and Jim walk shoulder to shoulder behind Scotty. He feels Jim’s fingers brushing against his own before McCoy grabs the younger man’s hand and a grin spreads across his lips.

Pike is already in the transport room, conversing with a rebel. He stops mid-sentence when he sees McCoy and Jim. “How long do we have?” he asks Scotty as the Scotsman sits at the console.  
  
“They have thirty minutes before the window closes,” Scotty tells him, almost apologetically.  
  
Pike runs his tongue over his teeth. “Better get this over with,” he says, stepping out of the way.  
  
McCoy mounts the pad with Jim at his side. He situates himself and catches Pike smiling at him the way the older man used to smile at Jim. “Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out, Leonard,” Pike quips at him, breaking up the solemn moment.  
  
McCoy snorts. “I’ll try not to.”  
  
He watches as Pike turns his gaze, which hardens, towards the Jim that is standing in front of him. They just stare at each other, not saying a word. McCoy can see the sadness in Jim’s eyes because he knows that this not how the younger man pictured saying goodbye to his friend and mentor.

He can imagine it’s like watching him die all over again.  
  
“On your mark, sir,” Scotty says, breaking the tension.  
  
Pike cranes his head towards the Scotsman and nods. “Punch it, Monty.”  
  
McCoy inhales deeply as the world dissolves into a blinding white. On his exhale, he realizes that he and Jim are right outside of shuttle bay. 

And the _Enterprise_ is filled with the sound of screaming alarms and red light. The ship rocks violently as it sustains a hit, nearly sending Jim and himself to the ground. 

“Couldn’t they just wait two _fucking_ seconds!” McCoy shouts over the alarms.  
  
Jim is already on his way towards the shuttle bay doors. “They’re Klingons, Bones,” he hollers back as he turns to look at him with a grin. “Did you expect them to enact patience?” 

McCoy follows behind him, only several paces away and with a sharp retort on his tongue. Leave it to Jim to make a joke during a situation like this because he’s Jim and that’s what he _always_ does. 

Jim is firing his phaser at the keypad next to the glass doors. The doors slide open, defeated, as the keypad sparks and hisses. “Piece of cake,” he hears Jim say.  
  
“Nothing is ever _that_ easy,” McCoy snaps as he looks up to see Jim stepping through the doors with a smug grin on his face.  
  
He’s a footstep away from passing through the threshold when the door slams shut, separating him from Jim. McCoy watches Jim whirl around, surprise registering on his face. He backtracks and studies the door for a moment, his brow furrowed.  
  
McCoy is about to say something when he sees something lingering behind Jim. He can see the shock of black hair that falls over pointed ears, those too dark eyes set against green tinged skin, and those pale lips that smile in triumph. 

“Jim,” he shouts, pounding his fists against the glass. “Jim! Behind you!”  
  
Jim looks at him, uncomprehendingly. “What?” he calls through the glass.  
  
“Behind you!” McCoy screams. “Spock!” 

He watches in slow motion as the Vulcan’s fist hits Jim square in the jaw, knocking the younger man into the glass. 

As Jim sinks to the ground, McCoy sees that smile on Spock’s face. The same smile that he had when he choked the life out of the other Jim.

McCoy feels his heart stop and barely registers the ragged screams as his own.


	15. Chapter 15

When he was a young boy, his mother showed him holovids of old nature programs. He would observe panthers, tigers, jaguars, and other predatory animals stalk their victims. Their movements were fluid and calculated: patience silence, and the ability to strike at the precise moment. 

There was so much logic and it enthralled Spock. As an adult, staring down the fallen man in front of him, he feels like a hunter seeking its prey.

Spock patiently waits as the dazed expression on Jim’s face recedes and his blue eyes start to focus. His lips curl into a grin as the younger man realizes that he’s on the floor, his body propped up by the glass door behind him. Next to him is a communicator, which Spock promptly crushes with his boot. 

Spock observes Jim reaching for his jaw, rubbing the skin that looks like it has already sustained a blow. He tilts his head, wondering who did it.

The doctor perhaps?

A lover’s quarrel gone physical?

McCoy _used_ to have quite the temper before Spock forced him to be docile and willing to follow orders. It would only be natural for it to seep out like poison and claim him once more. 

Or maybe it was someone else, though Spock couldn’t presume who. 

He hears Jim groan and spit. Blood – red and bright – is dribbling down his chin. It is a striking contrast against Jim’s pale skin. 

“I deduced that you would be back,” Spock finally tells him, watching Jim’s reaction as he realizes that he’s not alone. “I allowed this place to be empty… since you and I have unfinished business.”

The younger man’s blue eyes burn brightly with rage and it makes Spock swell with perverse delight. 

“Deciphering you has always been an easy task,” Spock continues as he squats down, straddling Jim’s legs. “You have always been so simple to read – what’s the Terran phrase? - Like an open book.”

Jim does not say anything as he hardens his gaze.

“They always said how smart you were, how brave…” Spock mocks as his gaze shifts over Jim’s shoulder.

McCoy is gone, probably off and running to find another entrance into the shuttle bay.

 _Good,_ he thinks, _let him come too late._ “I wonder how everyone would look at you now, Jim. Defenseless, senseless… _alone_.”

He can see the muscles in Jim’s throat move as he swallows. “I’m not alone,” he grunts.

“Your doctor is gone,” Spock replies as he drags a finger over the curve of Jim’s jaw, making sure to press down on the abraded spot from his fist. He revels in the hiss that the younger man makes. “I have no doubts that he is somewhere around here, trying to find a way to save you.”

Jim cocks his head. “Like I said, I’m not alone.”

“Touché,” Spock replies.

In a sudden movement that Spock had not calculated, Spock is hit in the nose by Jim’s fist, splitting the skin at the bridge. He falls backward and grunts as Jim propels himself onto the other man. Spock grabs Jim’s arm as the younger man goes for another blow, flipping him over his body.

He bounces onto his haunches as Jim lands on his back. Under their feet, the _Enterprise_ rumbles under enemy fire. The thrum of photon cannons, explosions, and retaliation provide a sickening soundtrack to their hand-to-hand combat.

As the ship takes another hit, Spock is on his feet and facing Jim, who is upright and ready for him. Spock launches himself at the younger man, furiously kicking and punching him. He hears Jim groan as his fists make contact with his body before Spock chokes on an exhale. Jim’s fist punches him in the side, near his kidneys, in rapid succession. Spock pushes Jim off of him, tripping backward and breathing heavily.

They glare at each other before Jim makes his next move. His fists deliver two more blows to his battered abdomen, causing Spock to waver on his feet. He is able to dodge the next blow, grabbing Jim’s wrist and bending it backward. The vibration of bones snapping against their will pulses against Spock’s hand. He hears Jim shout in a mixture of shock and pain.

“You’re weak,” Spock observes in a raspy voice. 

He can hear the growl coming from deep inside of Jim as he spins around, loosening Spock’s painful grip on his wrist and heaves him over his shoulder, slamming him onto the grated floor. 

Spock’s vision darkens, but only for a moment as the grated floor quivers from the impact of his body and sustaining another hit. As he opens his eyes, Jim is about to deliver a kick to his ribs.

But he is faster and grabs Jim’s ankle, jerking it out from under him. Jim is on the floor when Spock jumps on him, his hands reaching for his throat.

Spock hisses through his teeth as Jim blocks his green-tinged hands with his own. They struggle, Jim trying to fight off Spock with all his might. The effort is both valiant and amusing to the commanding officer as he gains the upper hand, pinning both of Jim’s wrists to the floor and squeezing them. 

Jim jerks up his knee, hitting Spock square in the groin. He jolts from the pain and the sensation of Jim pushing Spock off of him.

The human makes that moment to run. Spock’s hand shoots out, grabbing Jim by his pant leg and yanking him back. As Jim falls, a flash of metal catching the lights of the shuttle bay catches Spock’s eye. 

The phaser hits the floor with a loud clang, only inches from Jim’s fingers. Spock looks at Jim, both of them flushed, bruises, bleeding and panting from exertion. 

At the same moment, they both dive for the phaser, their fingers knocking it forward. Spock hears Jim swearing under his breath as they both jump for the weapon again.

Spock grabs Jim by his hair and slams his face against the floor. Jim’s cries of pain fills his ears as he springs forward.

He pulls back, admiring his handiwork upon seeing the deep laceration to Jim’s head. Blood is trickling down his temple, staining his dirty blond hair crimson. 

“It is your lot in life to be difficult,” Spock growls as he mashes Jim’s cheek against the grates, listening to the younger man’s whines. “Why is that, Jim?”

Jim grunts out an inaudible reply as Spock prepares to perform the neck pinch. “Someone has to keep you on your toes,” he pants.

“It’s not logical,” Spock replies into the shell of Jim’s ear. “Not a single thing you do makes sense to make, no matter how much I try to calculate your actions.” 

Jim groans. 

“You had everyone at the Academy fooled, cadet, including Christopher Pike,” Spock continues as his fingers tease the pressure points he is seeking. “But I knew better.”

Jim squirms under him. “I am not him, Spock,” he tells him.

“Liar,” Spock growls, crazed. He sucker punches Jim in the temple, enjoying the cry of pain from the younger man. His free hand trails down his own pant leg towards the knife he keeps in his boot. Gripping the hilt, he holds the knife up high. “I will not allow myself to be made a fool!”

Jim’s eyes widen in terror as he sees the knife. “Spock,” he shouts. “No!”

The knife is flying down towards Jim’s chest and just in a matter of seconds, it will be embedded in the human’s chest. The end happens so quickly that for a brief moment, he is left wondering why he never calculated it. 

Spock jolts back, surprised. He doesn’t feel the pain that radiates from his chest, not immediately anyways, but his brain registers that his limbs suddenly feel like lead. 

 _It’s impossible_ , he muses to himself as his arms drop to his sides, limp. _One cannot feel like they are made of lead, unless they are lead, which is an inanimate object._

He gazes down at Jim, seeing the tears welling up in his blue eyes, and finds himself to be curious as to why they are there in the first place. Perhaps he is scared of death or the prospect of it. 

It’s then Spock sees the gaping hole in his chest made of flesh, blood, and muscle. He stares at it uncomprehendingly, trying to recall how it got there in the first place. “What has happened?” he asks as he falls from Jim’s body, landing gracelessly on the floor.

“Spock,” Jim chokes. That’s when he sees it – the phaser in Jim’s trembling hands. And the knife is buried in Jim’s thigh, his blood starting to pool and stain the fabric of the human’s pants.

Spock cannot recall how it happened, but only that it has. “Your pants are dirty,” he mindlessly tells Jim. The pain comes – a dull ache that slowly surges and builds up.

Suddenly there is pain everywhere, overwhelming his body and stealing his breath. It’s like a fire burning, its embers of pain spread swiftly and creating pressure that rises in his chest. Spock lets out a strangled cry and finds himself heaving for air.

“Spock,” Jim says again as he bolts upright and hovers over him, his features tight with pain. “Spock?” 

In the midst of everything, Spock hears the emotion in the younger man’s voice. He closes his eyes for a moment, seeing red spots dancing in the darkness, before opening them again. 

Tears are streaming down Jim’s cheeks and his face is crumpling with sorrow. Through his trembling lips, Jim whispers, “Spock…I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you crying?” Spock asks, dumbly.

Jim falters and lets out a sob. “Oh god, Spock,” he moans as he gathers Spock into his arms, cradling his limp body to his chest. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

It doesn’t make sense and Spock wishes to tell Jim this, but he finds it difficult to speak. A bitter, numbing sensation floods his body. He can sense the blood draining from his face, leaving his skin feeling cold – colder than he’s ever experienced.

Part of him knows that Vulcans cannot be this cold and survive - it’s not in their physiology. 

Jim’s cheek is pressed against his sweaty forehead, the younger man’s tears burning his skin. “I’m so sorry,” he whimpers. “Spock… I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Why?” Spock rasps as he stares up at Jim. “I wanted you dead, yet you mourn my inevitable demise.”

Jim swallows. “I’ve been trying to tell you the entire time that I’m not him,” he tells Spock.

“But you are,” Spock counters in a broken grunt.

Jim shakes his head in protest. “Where I am from, we are friends,” he answers, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I do not believe you,” Spock pants.

Jim’s blue eyes are filled with numerous emotions; so many that Spock cannot identify them all. “I know,” he says sorrowfully as he brings Spock’s fingers to his psi points. “I know you don’t.” 

Spock doesn’t ask how Jim knows about the mechanics of a mind meld because it doesn’t matter. He’s about to get the answers he sought as he presses his fingertips into Jim’s skin.

And that’s when he sees it - all of it.

_It plays out like one of the old holovids that his mother used to love so much - musicals with dancing and filled with a spectrum of color._

_He sees how he first met Jim, except it doesn’t make sense. They are looking at each other from across an auditorium, filled with a sea of red cadet uniforms._

_A panel of their superiors - some that Spock recognize and some that he doesn’t - address them both._

_“The test itself is a cheat, isn’t it?” Jim asks him, his voice giving nothing away. “I mean, you programmed it to be unwinnable.”_

_This scenario is illogical. He was never able to prove that Jim cheated, though he suspected that it was the case. Spock presses onward in the memory._

_He hears himself speak, “Your argument precludes the possibility of a no-win scenario.”_

_“I don’t believe in no-win scenarios,” Jim tells him._

_Spock sees himself raise a brow, curious. “Then not only did you violate the rules, you also failed to understand the principal lesson.”_

_“Please enlighten me,” Jim grits through his teeth, clearly annoyed._

_Spock almost smiles. “You of all people should know, Cadet Kirk, a captain cannot cheat death.”_

_The scene changes and he’s on the bridge of the Enterprise._

_McCoy is there, as is Uhura and Sulu. A curly haired boy is seated in the navigator’s chair, though Spock does not recognize him._

_He recognizes Jim’s voice, barking at him, demanding that Spock listen to him._

_His doppelganger performs the mind meld and watches as the younger man topples to the ground, unconscious. As darkness swallows him, he hears “Get him off this ship.”_

_The memories - Jim’s memories - come faster: how he snuck back on the ship with a strange Scotsman, how they were able to save Pike, how Earth was not destroyed, how they formed a tentative partnership for the sake of the Federation before it evolved into a real friendship._

_He observes Jim breaking protocol to save his life, at the sacrifice of his captaincy, and rescuing his crew from a madman at the cost Jim’s own life._

_And that’s where Spock finds himself. He is outside the warp core, separated by glass, and watching Jim die in front of him._ _And he’s crying for the younger man._

_"I'm scared, Spock," Jim says as tears fall down his face. "Help me not to be...how do you choose not to feel?"_

_"I do not know," this Spock whispers. "Right now, I am failing."_

_"I wanted you to know why I couldn't let you die," he gasps. "Why I went back for you..."_

_Spock's lips are trembling as he replies, "Because you are my friend.”_

He pulls out of Jim’s mind with a gasp, his heart racing and his mind reeling. “You…” he says.

“Do you see now?” Jim asks softly.

Spock nods, or at least he thinks he does. “I tortured you with the intent to kill you,” he whispers, “yet you still hold no resentment towards me.”

“I don’t have it in me,” he hears Jim reply.

The numbness and the darkness is overwhelming him. The razor sharp pain has vanished from his chest, leaving behind a comfortable warm that spreads through his body. “I’m not him.” Spock tells him, “Why do you pity me?”

Jim pulls back, his blue eyes filled with so many emotions that Spock cannot identify them all. He is pressing his hand against Spock’s chest in a familiar pattern – the Vulcan salute. 

It’s been ages since he’s seen or felt it and it feels like home. Spock allows the darkness to swallow him because he does not fear death. He hears Jim’s voice, clear as a bell before the world stops.

_I have been and always will be your friend._

 

* * *

  
McCoy has no idea what possessed him to run, but he does. He’s running like a madman through the winding corridors that surround the shuttle bay, trying to find another way inside. 

He knows the ship fairly well, but he is used to keeping to the mess, his quarters, and Sick Bay.

It serves him right, he thinks - whilst firing at a crew member with his phaser - for not diverting from his self-imposed routine. The doctor was always a stubborn son of a bitch.  
  
Minutes are trickling down and somewhere within layers of metal and other materials that compose the walls Jim is contained in with that _fucking_ half-alien. 

As he turns a corner, the doctor is surprised that he isn’t having a full-blown panic attack. Yes his throat is raw from screaming as he helplessly watched Spock towering over Jim, but something - _something_ \- made him act. 

He’s not standing there like a loon, watching as Spock takes the life of another Jim; he’s running, darting through the corridors of the _Enterprise_ , trying to find another way in. Another way to save Jim.  
  
The universe is granting him a second chance to make things right, so long as he finds his way into the shuttle bay without being shot at. 

McCoy turns a corner just as the _Enterprise_ is hit again and he silently curses Pike for allowing a trigger happy Klingon to come to their aid.

The sudden lurch of the ship sends McCoy to the ground and he slides into a beam, his arm taking the brunt of the impact. 

The arm isn’t broken - probably bruised at best. In fact, his ears hurt more thanks to the shriek of the red alert that pierces the air. McCoy rolls over to his side, using the vantage point to see if anyone is coming.  
  
And of course someone is coming - a red shirt - whose approach is fast and frantic.

McCoy’s phaser is out and ready to fire, which he does as another red shirt comes around the corner. They let out a yell of surprise as McCoy’s phaser goes off, hitting them square in the chest. The doctor watches as the kid tumbles backward and is dead before he hits the ground. 

He’s already killed other two officers – both of whom he hated in the first place – and doesn’t mind if he has to murder one more if it makes that he’s one step closer to Jim.  
  
“McCoy,” Pike says from his pocket.  
  
He’s almost forgotten about the comm device, given the circumstances, and reaches for it. “What?” he barks as he hurries.  
  
“What’s the situation?” Pike asks.  
  
“Shitty,” McCoy replies.  
  
“That’s not very helpful, Leonard.”  
  
McCoy turns around corner and sees a door. “Please accept my deepest apologies,” he snaps as he approaches the door, “when I say that I don’t give a shit!”  
  
“What’s going on?”  
  
“Spock and Jim are somewhere in the shuttle bay,” McCoy tells him as he tries to open the door. It’s locked, of course, but he still has his medical override code. “I’m trying to get to him right now.”  
  
Pike swears, or at least McCoy thinks he does. “Dammit Jim,” the ex-captain shouts into the speaker.  
  
“Oh now you give a shit about him?” McCoy growls as he presses his code into the keypad.  
  
“Don’t start with me,” Pike warns. “You just do whatever you need to do to get him out of here.”  
  
McCoy stops typing and remembers the photon grenade in his pocket, which by some small mercy hasn’t gone off during his run through the belly of the _Enterprise_. 

Suddenly it all makes sense - like puzzle pieces falling together - and McCoy knows why the universe works the way it does. And it grants second chances in the most particular way. “How much longer does he have?” McCoy asks, his tone softening.  
  
“Less than ten minutes,” Pike replies. The doctor hears the older man’s breathing hitch, realizing the meaning behind McCoy’s words. “Leonard…”  
  
McCoy presses down on the last button. “Chris,” he says, his tone taking a fierceness that he hasn’t heard in a while, “I’ll get him home. I told you I would and I will.”  
  
The door slides open and smoke billows out. It’s not dense, meaning it’s coming from one of the upper levels of the ship. 

Pike is silent on the other end and for a brief moment, McCoy thinks the older man is going to argue with him. “Are you sure?” is all Pike asks.  
  
McCoy nods, despite knowing that the man on the other end cannot see him. “I’m sure,” he says with absolute certainty.  
  
“Okay,” Pike tells him.  
  
McCoy goes to take a tentative step inside shuttle bay when he hears Pike once more. “I’ll bring him back to you,” he says.  
  
Those words bring tears to McCoy’s eyes - or perhaps it’s the smoke - and he clears his throat. “Thank you,” is all he says before he drops the comm and breaks into a run.  
  
He’s darting between shuttles, too scared to call out Jim’s name in case Spock has him. The shuttle bay is eerily still, despite the chaos outside, and it makes McCoy’s heart pound against his ribs. 

His phaser is out in front of him, ready to fire, and he’s taking careful steps as he winds his way between rows of cargo containers and shuttles.  
  
McCoy is about to go in another direction when he slips and falls, his phaser jumping out of his hand and slides through green liquid. He pushes himself up on his hands and knees, grunting and swearing.

“Son of a…” his voice trails off as he turns his head.  
  
Spock is lying on the ground next to him with a gaping hole in the center of his chest, staining his command gold tunic in green blood and smoke. His former commanding officer is staring up at him with unseeing eyes, his lips parted ever so slightly. 

Next to the dead captain’s hand is a knife, a Vulcan contraption - though McCoy isn’t sure. He’s seen the knife plenty of times over the course of his tenure on the ship and has seen what damage it can do. 

The blade, twisted like a horn made of metal, is covered in blood - red blood. 

A human’s blood.  
  
_Jim!_ McCoy’s mind shouts as he bolts to his feet.

He finds splatters of blood on the floor and against the sides of shuttles in patterns made by fingerprints. The doctor swallows, his mind racing to the what ifs as he hurries. 

“Jim!” he finally shouts, his voice echoing through shuttle bay. “Jim!” There’s no answer and McCoy suddenly feels like someone has gutted him as he runs, knowing that time is running out. At the very end of a row of shuttles, he finds one that looks wholly out of place among the Imperial Fleet’s crafts.

He slows down, craning his head to see if he can spot Jim or one of Spock’s crew members. The shuttle doors are open and there is a hand print made of blood on the frame, a stark contrast between the shining material of Jim’s shuttle and the blood smeared against it.  
  
“Jim?” he calls, taking another step towards the door. McCoy holds his phaser out, his finger on the trigger, as he presses himself at the door frame before stepping inside. The shuttle is poorly light from the shuttle bay lights. He can see the pilot’s controls glinting at him in the darkness and the sound of machinery beeping.  
  
“Powering up cycle complete,” drawls the computer inside the shuttle. “Captain James Tiberius Kirk, activation code 442-99-07 accepted.”  
  
McCoy starts at the sound and nearly fires his phaser at the control panel. There’s blood smeared into the buttons in the shape of fingerprints, a mix of green and red. 

The lights flicker on, illuminating the shuttle and that’s when McCoy spots Jim below the control panel, slumped over. “Jim!” McCoy shouts as he rushes over to the younger man and drops to his knees. His fingers press up against Jim’s neck, searching for a pulse, as the surveys his injuries.  
  
His left pant leg is coated in blood at the thigh. Through the tear in the fabric, McCoy can see the jagged wound that mars Jim’s skin. His eyes move up, taking in the bruising that hugs Jim’s jawline and the trickle of dried blood from a cut on his lower lip. Congealed blood stains Jim’s hair and his breath is coming in short, pained rasps. 

“Shit kid,” McCoy whispers as his brushes a finger down the uninjured side of Jim’s face. The photon grenade bumps against his knee, a quiet reminder of what he has to do. So McCoy gets to work.

 

* * *

  
He feels his body being pulled upwards, slowly rising from the depths of oblivion. The feeling returns to his extremities, leaving behind a tingling sensation.

Then the pain comes. 

First to his head – pulsing and throbbing; his midsection is next and it feels like he’s been set on fire. He grunts, feeling the dryness in his throat as his thigh begins to feel like someone stabbed it. Then Jim remembers that _someone_ did stab him. He fights to open his eyelids with every ounce of energy that he still possesses.  
  
The darkness begins to recede, giving birth to blinding light that surrounds him. He groans, closing his eyes as tightly as he can, trying to block out the world around him. 

He hears a voice – low and familiar – and he _thinks_ it’s calling his name. The voice seems like it’s coming from miles away, though Jim knows that it’s not. “Jim?” the voice says more clearly this time.  
  
He opens his eyes again, wincing as the light hits his eyes. This time, he forces them to stay open, allowing them to adjust. Someone is in front of him, though their features are blurry. 

Jim can make out the shock of dark hair and span of broad shoulders. “Bones?” he croaks weakly.  
  
“Yeah kid, it’s me,” he hears Bones reply back, followed by a warm hand cupping his cheek.  
  
Jim nuzzles his cheek against Bones’ palm and starts to smile until his lip pulls painfully. He groans and shuts his eyes. “Ow.”  
  
“You’re okay,” Bones assures him in a gentle voice. “You’re going to be fine. I figured out how to activate the autopilot so you can fly through the disturbance without having to really do anything.”  
  
Jim opens his eyes – his sight clearer this time – and sees Bones hovering in front of him with a soft smile on his face.

It’s then Jim realizes that he’s sitting upright. The gash on his thigh has been crudely dressed with what looks like a sleeve. “How?” he asks in a broken voice as he looks down at his body, seeing that he’s strapped into the pilot’s seat. “How did I get… I don’t remember…”  
  
“You’re a heavy son of a bitch,” Bones tells him, his voice unchanging. He tilts his head, studying Jim with those hazel eyes before he speaks again. “I want you to listen to me.”  
  
Jim blinks owlishly. “What?” he replies as Bones kneels in front of him, his jacket missing, and traces the curve of Jim’s jaw with his calloused fingers as his eyes linger on his face. “Bones? What’s going on?”  
  
“I want to you to know something and I want you to listen to me,” Bones tells him. “I don’t like repeating myself, even if it’s you.”  
  
Jim feels the first tendrils of panic in his chest. “Bones?” he whispers nervously.  
  
“I want you to know that I would have loved spending every moment with you – watching you be a captain because I know that you’re a damn good one despite what you say,” Bones says with a sad smile. “I would have loved having you in my arms every night and seeing those blue eyes when you woke up in the morning.”  
  
Jim shakes his head. “Bones… what’s happening? Tell me what’s…” Bones presses his fingers against Jim’s lips, minding his injury.  
  
“I would have loved spending my life with you,” Bones whispers as he rises to his feet. “Every single second of every single day; I know that we would have been happy.”  
  
Jim feels tears sting his eyes as he tries to comprehend what Bones is telling him. “What are you saying?” he asks, choking on his words. “You’re coming with me, Bones! You _said_ you were coming with me! I heard you. You told me!”  
  
“I can’t come with you, Jim,” Bones tells him. “We’re running out of time and I need to make sure you get out of here.”  
  
Jim’s breath hitches in his throat as he grabs onto Bones’ hands, squeezing them for dear life. “No,” he cries out. “No… Bones, don’t.”  
  
“Jim,” Bones says, “it’s going to be okay.”  
  
He shakes his head furiously because it’s not going to be okay. “You can’t do this,” he whimpers. “You can’t leave me, Bones. You promised you’d keep me safe!” 

He feels the weight of Bones’ lips against his, his frantic words dying on the doctor’s tongue as it enters his mouth. Jim closes his eyes as Bones kisses until he can’t breathe.

Bones pulls away, kissing both his cheeks. His lips press against the tip of Jim’s nose, then his eyelids, and finally his forehead, where Bones lingers. 

“Please don’t do this to me,” Jim begs, his voice faltering. He squirms against the harness that is wrapped around his midsection, letting out a cry of pain.  
  
Bones kisses his temple. “It’s going to be okay.”  
  
“Bones,” Jim chokes, “I love you.”  
  
Bones pulls back and Jim sees the smile plastered to his face. He looks so painfully happy that Jim wants to fall apart. “I love you, too,” the doctor tells him before kissing his lips once more.  
  
“Please don’t leave me,” Jim whispers when they pull apart. “Please…”  
  
Bones brushes his hair off his forehead and leans forward, his mouth brushing against the shell of his ear. “Be brave, Jim,” he whispers into Jim’s ear. 

There are explosions, phaser fire, and alarms, so loud and deafening that not many people would be able to hear Bones. But Jim can. He latches on to every single word, the way Bones’s voice sounds as he speaks, memorizing it as much as he can.

Jim feels his eyes burning with tears that fall down his cheeks. His lips are trembling and his body is shaking, overwhelmed and exhausted.

He chokes back a sob, his fingers digging into Bones’ arms, and shakes his head as Bones pulls back, his features masked in an eerie calm. “Okay?” he says with a smile - a sweet one that’s only meant for Jim.  
  
Jim nods because it’s all he can do. He hears shouting, his head jerking towards the sound and eyes widening. He whimpers as he thinks _they’re coming_. A hand brushes against his cheek, wiping away his tears, and only then Jim turns back as Bones is slipping something in the pocket of it his jacket.

He sees a flash of circular metal – the ring that Bones always wears on his pinkie. “You keep this safe, you hear?” Bones tells him, his eyes flickering in concern as Jim begins to come undone. “You’re going to be okay, kid.”  
  
Jim tries to hold onto him, scrambling for purchase as the doctor rises to his feet, his body slipping from Jim’s weak grasp. “Bones,” he whimpers, shaking his head furious. He opens to his mouth to say something, anything, but the words die on his tongue.  
  
“I’ve got this, kid,” Bones says with a nod of his head. His expression is tranquil as he flips a switch, setting the shuttle into autopilot.  
  
“Bones,” Jim says weakly. “Bones no. Please…”  
  
Bones turns around and smiles sadly. “I love you, Jim,” he tells him before pressing his lips to Jim’s sweaty forehead.  
  
“Bones stop,” Jim cries as the doctor backs away from him towards the shuttle door. He is clumsily trying to unlock the harness around his torso, his body betraying him and giving in to pain. “Bones! Stop! Please don’t do this!” 

Bones just nods, his body disappearing as the shuttle doors close.  
  
And Jim begins to scream.

 

* * *

  
McCoy hears the shuttle leave the devastated ship as he wanders through the shuttle bay. He is surprised by the younger man’s tears, since he knows perfectly well that this Jim is not his Jim, but someone else’s. It’s in a different way, of course, but for now, it’s all the same. 

Jim’s screams echo in his ears, filled with anguish and desperation.

McCoy knows that Jim doesn’t understand that he’s ready for death and he saw it in those terrified cerulean blue eyes. If it means that he will live, the doctor is willing to die.  
  
McCoy finds himself smiling, a real smile, at the thought.

He may have not been able to save his Jim, but this one will live. It brings him a measure of peace as he hears footsteps approaching. McCoy turns back to see Sulu rounding the corner, his dark eyes glinting in rage and his face etched in tight lines.  
  
_One Mississippi._  
  
He watches as his fellow crew member takes in Spock’s corpse lying on the floor next to his boots.

He's white like marble; his green blood practically drained from his body and dripping onto the floor. It forms a semicircle around his head, coating the black strands of hair.  
  
Sulu doesn’t need to take Spock’s pulse, he already knows he’s dead.  
  
“You’re going to pay,” Sulu growls, shifting his gaze from the fallen captain to Bones.  
  
_Two Mississippi._  
  
McCoy shrugs his shoulders and flips the grenade cap open, pressing his thumb against the button. He should feel anxiety, terror, remorse.

All he seems is a sense of peace as he remembers meeting Jim, his Jim, for the first time. Their first kiss, tentative and sweet. The first time they made love in McCoy’s bed, clumsy and slow as their bare skin rubbed against each other. The first time Jim whispered those three words into McCoy’s ear when he thought the doctor was asleep.

The last time they made love.

Their last kiss.  
  
“Why the hell are you smiling?” Sulu snaps, raising his phaser to eye level. He has a snarl on his face and his trigger finger is ready. “McCoy, why the fuck are you smiling?”  
  
_Three Mississippi._  
  
Jim is gone by now, safely flying away from the _Enterprise_ in the shuttle he arrived in. He is sure of it.  
  
McCoy raises his hand, flashing the grenade to Sulu, whose eyes widen. “This is why,” he replies, pressing the button.  
  
_Four Mississippi._

 

* * *

  
He finally – _FINALLY_ \- unbuckles himself from the pilot’s seat of the shuttle, practically falling onto the ground as his body is released.

Jim lets out a whine as his side explodes in pain and forces himself to his feet, stumbling towards the back. He sways on his feet and swallows back a cry of pain as his hand latches onto the wall of the shuttle. Jim pushes onward because he’s a stubborn son of a bitch and finds himself staring out the viewport of the shuttle. 

The crippled _ISS Enterprise_ is still there, engulfed in flames against the darkness. Gaping holes puncture the structure as a field of debris separates Jim’s shuttle from the ship. He swears he sees bodies floating amongst the materials that comprise of the ship – _his_ ship – but it could be his delirium. 

“Bones,” he utters, his throat hoarse from screaming, as he reaches into the pocket of his jacket. His fingers brush against the ring that Bones had tucked into his palm.  
  
Jim can still feel the pressure of the doctor’s fingers in his pocket, dropping the object against the fabric of his jacket with a calmness that only Bones could have in the direst of circumstances. An explosion startles him, so loud and deafening that the shuttle vibrates from the aftershocks.

Jim’s head snaps up immediate just in time to see the _Enterprise_ rip apart at the seams in a burst of brilliant flame that lights up space for just a single moment before it disappears, extinguished. Jim takes a tentative step forward to peer out the viewport, his heart hammering against his chest as a wave of agony surges through his body.  
  
He is staring at space – black, endless, and unblemished.

The _Enterprise_ , the Narada, and the Klingon ship are gone, as if they’ve ceased to exist altogether, leaving nothing but stars and matter behind. 

Jim goes to the other viewport, thinking that his shuttle has been turned around from the explosion. All he sees is darkness.  
  
He darts to the front of the shuttle, realizing that he is still moving, and collapses against the console with a groan of pain. With shaking fingers, he commands the shuttle to stop, which it does. 

The sudden lack of motion makes Jim stumble backwards, hitting the pilot’s seat with his side. He grips the seat, leveling out his equilibrium, and glances in front of him in hopes of seeing something, anything. There is nothing ahead and he gasps, disbelieving what his eyes and brain are telling him. 

“No,” he whispers as he staggers backward into the walls of the shuttle. His backside collides with the viewport, the glass pressing against him, holding him upright as Jim chokes on the stale air that hovers around him. “No.”  
  
The first of many tears sting his eyes, escaping down his cheeks as a wet scream erupts from his lips. He turns around, balling his hands into fists as he begins pounding and hitting the walls of the shuttle. His screams are echoing off the metal along with the sound of his fists and boots assaulting the shuttle. 

He remembers pounding his fists against the glass of the viewport until his skin is raw, bloodied, and broken and there are red smears against the clear surface and the surrounding wall.  
  
His voice is ragged and nearly gone when he finally collapses against the walls of the shuttle, sliding down until he’s being held upright by metal. 

Devastation overwhelms him, practically crushing Jim with its force. He sobs for what has transpired: for his counterpart who is dead and gone, and for the crazed man who murdered him ruthlessly. 

And Bones, whose memory threatens to tear Jim apart.

His Bones that kept his promise to keep him safe, that loved him beyond all measure, and that died so he could live.  
  
Hot tears are soaking his cheeks and mingling with the mucus from his nose. The burning torrents of dwindling terror and exhaustion course out of his eyes, allowing all of his pent up emotions to burst out of him like a dam.

Jim pulls his knees to his chest and buries his head into his knees, sobbing until the tears stop coming and he feels himself sinking…  
  
…fast…  
  
…then slow…  
  
…until he thinks his eyes are vacantly wandering towards the front of the shuttle, only seeing stark grey walls, consisting of metal and machinery. 

Lights blink at him, teasing and taunting, though they could be stars. It could be from the shuttle or perhaps he’s somewhere else, though Jim’s not sure where. 

He is grateful as his mind, body, and soul go numb - that is all he knows as he sinks down, down, and deeper into the haze that cocoons him. 

He is aware that he’s alone and drifting, but someone will find him.  
  
Maybe.  
  
Eventually.


End file.
